Testing, Testing, One, Two, Ouch!
by PapayaK
Summary: We've read stories where someone from Henry's past comes back to cause trouble for Shawn and the gang. What if Maddie had some dark characters in her past? What if they came looking for revenge? (There will be Whump...)
1. Chapter 1

Testing, Testing, One, Two, Ouch

by PapayaK

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

BETA: The Mega-Literate, Super-Intelligent, DinerGuy, 'A Reference, Not a Definition' - If not for her kindness and persistence, this story would not exist.

This is set somewhere in late season 7 early season 8, so there will be Shules.  
Rated T because everyone has a different definition of what 'Graphic' means…

oO0Oo  
Chapter 1  
oO0Oo

_Fist bump and victory dance._

"_Good work, Spencer," grudgingly._

_A sweet smile. "Nicely done!" lovingly._

_Actual, spontaneous (slow clapping) applause from the station at large._

"_The department thanks you. You can pick up your check," formal and appreciative._

_A single fatherly nod… but there was just a hint of pride in it._

oOo

It was pretty good for a Wednesday.

Okay – _really_ good.

Not all those things had happened at once, but they had all happened in the last 24 hours, and that was something of a record for Shawn.

It had been a tough case; even for him. It had traveled from dead end to dead end and he had very nearly given up. He'd even gone to his dad for help more than he'd ever done before. But in the end, with Gus's help, he'd seen through the murderer's plan. He'd finally found the clue that pulled it all together.

He'd put that disbelieving but grudgingly appreciative look on Lassie's face that he'd come to crave over the years.

Yeah - it was a good day.

He was nearly giddy with glee as he entered his favorite smoothie shop in celebration. He was going to buy himself a pineapple, and Gus a mango-orange, and he wasn't even going to use Gus's credit card to do it.

He was feeling generous.

He was feeling quite proud of himself.

He liked this feeling. He liked it very much.

He flirted with the girl behind the counter until she blushed and giggled. That was fun, too, especially since she knew he was madly in love with Jules and took his flirting in the way he intended - light and insincere.

"Good-bye, Lucinda, queen of the pineapples!" He was still grinning and almost bouncing as he pushed the door open with a hip, his hands full of large Styrofoam cups. He stepped out into the bright sunshine.

"Mr. Spencer?" A rather short, sturdy man in a charcoal suit and matching tie walked up to him. He had greying hair, but dark piercing eyes.

"At your service," Shawn replied jauntily with a slight bow; he was also feeling very ready for a new case. "What can I do for you?"

"My name is Dr. Mallow, and I'd like the opportunity to visit with you."

"Is your first name Marsh? Come on, tell me your first name is Marsh."

The older gentleman just raised an eyebrow.

"Heard that one before, huh?" Shawn asked.

"Not since high school, I must admit," he frowned.

Shawn cleared his throat. Not even a grumpy client was going to ruin his mood today. "Our office is just up the block. Would you care to walk with me?" he asked, overly polite.

Grumpiness temporarily diverted, the gentleman continued, "Actually, I would very much appreciate you coming to _my_ office."

Shawn considered. It was unusual but certainly not unprecedented. "Mmm… Sure, Gus and I can be there any time."

"Ah, you misunderstand me." The man raised a finger. "I am not looking for the services of a detective agency."

"_Psychic_ detective agency," Shawn corrected.

His not-client smiled politely and shook his head slightly. "Either way, I do not need a detective. I need you."

"Reeealllly?" Shawn asked, flattered. "Why's that?" His smoothies were beginning to melt so he began to walk back toward Psych, his new friend joining him.

Dr. Mallow leaned over somewhat conspiratorially. "I understand you have an eidetic memory?"

Shawn frowned at that and nearly stopped in his tracks, barely managing to keep his surprise to himself. There were very few people in the world who actually knew he had that particular gift, and while having it and being psychic were not mutually exclusive, one could easily lead people to doubt the other. For that reason, he usually kept that little fact under wraps. "I'm not sure where–"

"Oh come now, Mr. Spencer. May I call you Shawn?" The stranger didn't wait for an answer but continued, "I don't care if you are psychic or not. However, I do have a fascinating, lucrative_,_ _and confidential _interest in people who have exceptional memory capabilities… You do have it, right? An exceptional memory?" He gave Shawn a business card and a look that said, '_How can you possibly resist?_' "If you are interested, please meet me at my office tomorrow at… shall we say 10am? We don't want to get up too early – all that traffic and what-not."

And with that, he abruptly turned back the way they had come.

Shawn paused, puzzled but intrigued. "How lucrative?" he called after the man.

The doctor turned briefly and smiled. "Come tomorrow and find out." With that, he turned and walked away.

Shawn watched, frowning, until he disappeared around the corner. "Huh."

A drip of condensation ran over his fingers, reminding him of his mission, and he continued thoughtfully on towards Psych.

Gus was happy and pleased to receive his _free _mango-orange smoothie and the two friends spent the evening revisiting all the fun, exciting, and challenging bits of their most recent case.

The odd but interesting encounter with Dr. Mallow never came up.

oO0Oo

The next morning, Shawn was at the office by nine. He'd had to get up early to take Jules to the airport. She and Lassiter had to go up to Sacramento to testify in a case they'd help the feds solve last month. Shawn wasn't terribly interested since he and Gus hadn't been in on it. It had been a straightforward issue of drug smuggling; no need for psychics. And, while he missed Jules, it wasn't all bad. Her absence meant that he and Gus could finally have the CHiPs marathon they'd been putting off ever since he and Jules got back together.

Hopefully she'd only be gone for two nights. If the case progressed as expected and wrapped up on Friday, he would pick her up at the airport on Saturday morning. He'd stuck post-it notes to every wall in the house with her flight number and time of arrival so he wouldn't get distracted.

Meanwhile, Gus would be at his other job for a few hours yet, so Shawn sat at his desk and twirled Dr. Mallow's business card in his fingers, considering. The words 'lucrative' and 'confidential' kept dancing around each other in his head, and he wondered if maybe he should find out a little more.

He shrugged, decided it couldn't hurt, and pulled open his laptop. A few clicks later, Shawn knew that Dr. John M. Mallow (maybe his _middle_ name was Marsh!) was a professor of psychology at a small university in Kansas. He had no criminal record. He had received a few parking tickets in the small town where he lived, but they had been promptly paid. He'd never been married and he had no children.

Shawn also found a paper, published in a little known psychology journal, by a Prof. J.M. Mallow that delved into current Alzheimer's research and potential new treatments. He didn't actually read anything other than the table of contents and the first page, but it seemed legit. Boring… but legitimate.

"Guess the guy has a thing about memory," he mused quietly. And then, with nothing else to do, he made a decision. "Let's go see just how lucrative this thing is." He tossed the business card on his desk, having memorized the address, and left. He should have plenty of time to get to Mallow's office by 10.

oO0Oo

"Shawn!" Dr. Mallow cried when he came into the office. "How good of you to keep our appointment! Come in, come in!"

Smiling somewhat awkwardly because of the weird, overly enthusiastic welcome, Shawn came in and plopped down on the couch. "Nice digs, Doc," he said, trying to sound sincere. No sense antagonizing a potential source of income.

Dr. Mallow smiled around at his office. "Mmm, well, it does the job."

In truth it wasn't all that impressive. The basic furniture and impersonal, generic art on the walls screamed 'furnished rental.'

"Not in town long?" Shawn asked innocently.

"I travel quite a bit for research," the doctor explained dismissively. "It's often easier and cheaper for me to travel to visit my… subjects than it is to get them to visit me."

Shawn raised an eyebrow at 'subjects.' He wasn't anyone's guinea pig.

Mallow sensed his discomfort and got to the point. "Let's talk details, shall we?" He slid a piece of paper across his desk towards Shawn, who picked it up and scanned it. "That explains exactly what is required of you, including the approximate schedule, how much time you will need to set aside for our research, and the amount I will be able to pay you. Are you interested?"

Shawn looked at the comma in the amount of his stipend and at the number of hours required – no comma. He thought about the fact that they'd just finished a big case and had nothing on the horizon. He considered how Gus had been complaining about his spending – '_over-spending_,' Gus would say, but who _didn't_ need a spy camera for their office - inside _and _out? _'Why not_?' he thought and asked, "Where do I sign?"

When they had finished filling out a bit of paperwork, Shawn stood, shook the doctor's hand, and turned to leave.

Dr. Mallow's voice stopped him. "Oh, and Shawn – please be sure and remember the confidentiality agreement you signed. Not even your business partner – Mr. Guster, is it? – can know about our research."

When Shawn frowned uncomfortably at that, Mallow continued. "It really benefits us both. My field is cut-throat. Others will take advantage of my research if they can, and as for you, I think you'd like your amazing memory to remain a secret, right? So even though Mr. Guster may already know your secret, that does not clear him to know about our work together, or our contract will be null and void and you won't see another penny."

Shawn nodded unhappily and turned away. Oh well. The cash he would be bringing in all by himself would be more than enough comfort to his buddy. And if it came right down to it, he would have no trouble breaking that promise and telling Gus everything - he owed Gus a lot more than he owed 'Dr. Marshmallow!'

"I don't want to take any more of your time today, Shawn," Mallow said.

Shawn was already on his way to the door, but the creepy Doctor apparently wanted to make it clear that Shawn wasn't leaving so much as _being allowed_ to leave. "It is my policy to pay the participants in my study a portion of their fee in advance." He held out a check, forcing Shawn to retrace his steps to take it. "Consider it a deposit on the work we will do together."

Shawn eyed him suspiciously before reaching out to take the check. Something about this guy was just _off_. The secrecy, the evasiveness, the general creep factor had Shawn almost ready to refuse. But he was still feeling pretty good from yesterday, and it would be fun to have a chance to show off what he could do without worrying if anyone found out. Plus the doc was a little guy, how dangerous could he be? And once he saw the amount, his concerns faded considerably. He smiled, suddenly feeling much better as Mallow escorted him to the door. "See you tomorrow, Doc!"

oO0Oo

On his way back to Psych, Gus called. As it turned out, it wasn't going to be all that difficult to keep the news from Gus – at least for a while. His best friend had been guilted into spending the weekend helping his parents paint their living room. Gus had called to see if he could talk Shawn into helping, but Shawn's 'carpal tunnel' was suddenly acting up.

"Shawn, I know that at least one of your 57 jobs was as a painter, _and_ I know it was one of the few where you weren't actually fired – so I know you know how to paint."

"You're right, Gus, I left '_Have Brush Will Paint'_ over creative differences."

"Let me guess, you wanted to paint some little girl's room black?"

"She was totally into Goth, Gus," and then he continued thoughtfully, "Or maybe that was me… or the girl I was dating… Debbie? Or was it Marie…?"

"Shawn!" Gus tried to bring him back on track.

"Either way, I'm pretty sure I'm not the man for the job."

"You'll do just fine, Shawn. And if you help, we can still have the CHiPs marathon."

"After painting all day? Gus! You _know_ painting would require Miami Vice.

"Shawn – ChiPs goes with paint just fine." A thought occurred to Gus. "Paint CHiPs! Ha!"

"I can't do this with you right now, Gus. Besides, I'm busy. I have an appointment."

"An appointment? Shawn! What are you doing?"

Oops.

"Actually I told my dad I'd help him with some project he's got at the house, so I obviously can't help you," he covered quickly.

"Why didn't you just say that?"

"You didn't ask, Gus. You never ask if I'm busy."

"You never are."

"Well, now I am."

"Fine." Gus paused for a moment. "CHiPs Friday night, instead?"

"Okay – but we might need Miami Vice for a spacer here and there."

"You know that's right."

oO0Oo

The first session with Dr. Mallow on Friday afternoon, actually turned out to be really fun. Shawn rarely got to show off quite like this. The only other person who'd _ever_ asked him to demonstrate his exceptional memory was his dad. And he could _never _impress Henry – no matter how hard he tried. Mallow, on the other hand, never stopped complimenting him.

And he never once asked how many hats were in the room.

They started with photographs. The doctor would show him a picture and then put it away. Next he asked him questions about what had been in it – down to the tiniest detail. It was child's play for Shawn.

Each new photo was shown to him for less and less time, and each photo made the doc more and more impressed.

When Shawn had no difficulty describing every aspect of a detailed picture he'd seen for less than a second, Mallow sat back in his chair and stared. "You are the third person with an eidetic memory that I have had the opportunity to interview, but you are by far the most impressive!"

Shawn grinned and preened, all thought of creepiness forgotten.

"Were you aware that the vast majority of people with this ability lose it well before puberty?"

Shawn was. His mother, the psychologist – who _also_ happened to have an eidetic memory, albeit tonal rather than complete like Shawn's – had taught him quite a bit about the skill they shared. But – mostly in search of more praise – he denied having the knowledge. "Really?"

"Yours is incredibly well developed! Remind me never to let you see anything I'd like to keep private!"

They both laughed.

Every once in a while, Mallow would try to surprise him with a random question. "Who was sitting on the bench outside when we walked up?" or "What color were the cars in the parking lot?" Always something that the doctor had noted, but to which Shawn had no reason to pay any attention. But Shawn always remembered.

After a couple hours, the doctor suggested they take a break. "So have you ever met anyone else that has this gift?" he asked.

"Um… no one that I know of." Shawn wasn't sure why he was lying. There was no reason to. But something in his gut was telling him to keep the knowledge of his mom's not-secret-at-all gift to himself. Or maybe that was just the years of lying about his own gift rubbing off on hers.

"Well, it is quite rare, but you're sure you've never encountered anyone else like you?" Mallow asked.

Shawn thought about it. It was silly, really. He could think of no _rational_ reason not to tell the doc. No reason at all. This guy had been nothing but nice to – not to mention generous with him. Why was he suspicious?

He was about to say, _'actually, my mom has it,' _when Mallow asked an even stranger question. "Who has done research on your memory in the past?"

"Researched my mem…" Shawn frowned, convinced now that there was something wrong. "What research are you talking about?"

But Mallow's intense gaze was suddenly gone, replaced by his usual pleasant smile. "Never mind me! It's like I said, I get too worried about other researchers." He handed Shawn a water bottle. "That's probably enough for today, don't you think? I think we _both _need a break." And he laughed dismissively.

Shawn twisted off the top of the bottle and took a long drink of water while he thought about what Mallow had said. The creepy factor was back and it was quickly climbing to the top of the scale. There was definitely something off about this guy. He and Gus were going to have to look deeper into this guy's background. Maybe he'd ask Jules for help when she got back. Being fascinated with memory was one thing but…

He suddenly began to feel a little woozy.

That was odd.

Shawn glanced at the bottle of water in his hand. Mallow didn't… he wouldn't… _why would he_? But the wooziness quickly became downright dizziness. Shawn blinked.

He looked over at Mallow, who was watching him with an oddly expectant face. "We shouldn't keep secrets from one another, Shawn," he whispered. Then he shook his head, clearly disappointed.

Shawn shook his own head almost as an echo, his vision suddenly wonky.

His tongue felt twice its normal size, and his ears were numb.

Then he _knew_. "You… drugged… me…"

And the last thing he saw was Mallow smiling in a way that wasn't friendly at all.

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

_Previously…_

_Dr. Mallow leaned over somewhat conspiratorially. "I do not need a detective. I need you. I understand you have an eidetic memory?"_

_The first session with Dr. Mallow on Friday afternoon, actually turned out to be really fun. Shawn rarely got to show off quite like this. _

_The Doc handed Shawn a water bottle. "That's probably enough for today, don't you think? I think we both need a break." And he laughed._

_Shawn twisted off the top of the bottle and took a long drink of water while he thought about what Mallow had said. _

_Then he knew. "You… drugged… me…"_

_And the last thing he saw was Mallow smiling in a way that wasn't friendly at all._

**oO0Oo  
Testing, Testing, One, Two, Ouch!  
Chapter 2  
oO0Oo**

When Shawn awoke, he realized three things.

One, his head _really_ hurt.

Two, he was tied, hand and foot, to a chair.

And three, no one had any idea where he was. For that matter, _he _didn't know where he was.

This really was not the best way to spend his time.

He was alone for the moment, though, so he put his _'gift' _to use. He studied every inch of the room that was visible, but there was nothing that gave him any comfort.

The metal chair to which he was bound was bolted to the concrete floor with two thick bolts through each foot. No help there. The concrete floor stretched, unbroken except for a single drain set in its lowest point, for about five feet in every direction before it reached bare cinderblock walls. Well, the walls were almost bare. There were thick metal rings driven into the concrete at about waist height every three to four feet. He was pretty sure he didn't want to know what those were for.

There were no windows. Light came from two bare bulbs set into recesses in the ceiling. For all he knew he could be underground.

The ceiling was also concrete: concrete beams supporting concrete slabs. The single door appeared to be thick metal set into a heavy metal frame. There was a small, smooth metal panel where the door knob was supposed to be, which meant this particular door was never, ever intended to be opened from the inside.

This was so not good.

He made a fist in his frustration and felt an odd sensation on his wrist. He looked at it. "Huh, that's new," he commented, his voice strangely echo-y in the empty room.

He wasn't duct taped, as he'd automatically assumed. _'Getting sloppy, kid,'_ came Henry's voice, unbidden, as it always did when he was disappointed in himself. _'How'd you miss that one?'_

Nor was he tied with rope, chains, or the ever popular zip ties.

There was a loop of something similar to razor wire encircling each of his wrists and the sturdy armrests of the metal chair. It was unlike razor wire because it didn't have the barbs, but it was very much like razor wire in that it was extremely sharp. It looked like a harmless, plain ribbon of metal less than a centimeter wide.

It was tight enough that the edge lay against his skin, but not quite tight enough to cut him – unless he moved.

When he'd clenched his fist, the wire had sliced easily through the cuff of his long sleeved shirt and had nicked his skin enough to bring a bead of blood. The 'odd feeling' had not been the usual pain of being cut but the unique cold-ish feeling that comes only when the knife is very, _very_ sharp.

He stared at the small drop of blood, mesmerized. He was fairly certain that if he happened to yank his arm upward with enough force, he could cut his hand right off – or at least cut his arm to the bone.

'_Mental note to self,'_ Shawn thought. _'Don't do that."_

This was _really _not good.

Who _was_ this guy?

_What did he want_?

oO0Oo

Gus walked into Psych over an hour late for the Friday night CHiPs marathon. Helping his parents paint had been more trying than he'd expected. He'd almost given up when, halfway through the second wall, his mom had decided to switch colors completely. But he'd taken a deep breath and started over.

He would've made it _nearly_ on time for the marathon, but his mom had insisted that he stay for dinner. _And_ she'd made her special brownies with the caramel ribbon for dessert to thank him for helping.

He'd stayed without a bit of concern for his buddy's feelings. After all, Gus knew Shawn would understand once he knew _why_ his chocolate Ponch was late.

Plus he had a plate of said brownies balanced in one hand and a bag of Doritos in the other, so he was pretty sure Shawn wouldn't be too mad.

Except Shawn wasn't there.

Gus frowned. Setting the brownies on top of some of the papers on his partner's desk, he looked around. He'd expected Shawn to have started without him, but maybe he'd gotten tired of waiting and left.

More likely his buddy had gotten a better offer.

But Jules was out of town…

Shawn had just stood him up? Gotten distracted by something?

Any of these options was possible.

Things had been a little different between them since Shawn and Jules had gotten back together – which was to be expected – but to just ignore a CHiPs marathon?

Snagging a brownie off the plate, Gus shrugged while he chewed. It certainly wasn't unprecedented for Shawn to just decide to do something else. Maybe his dad's project had gotten more involved than expected. Either way, Gus wasn't going to wait around – or chase Shawn down like he was desperate for companionship. They were both grown men with lives outside of Psych now. It was natural for a certain distance to develop.

At least, that's what he told himself as he walked out the door.

He left the brownies, though, just in case.

oO0Oo

"_What do you want from me?_" Shawn demanded. He couldn't get anything off this guy!

Mallow had entered the room about an hour after Shawn had woken. The doc had brought a chair with him, which he'd set against the wall and then sat on, crossing his legs elegantly. "Well, first I needed to know whether or not you had kept your ability from childhood. Without it, you would be of absolutely no use to me." He chuckled. "If you didn't have such an incredible memory, I would have made up some excuse to cancel and I would have let you go. But you demonstrated your abilities quite enthusiastically." He chuckled again but there was no real humor in it. "I bet you wish you hadn't been so excited about showing off, hmm? But _now… _What I would really like, Shawn, is for us to continue our game. There are a few more things I need to know before we can really get down to business."

He appeared ready to continue their session as if the situation had not changed; as if they were still sitting amicably in the office. He stood briefly, removed his suit coat and rolled up his sleeves before sitting back down. Shawn was surprised and distressed to note that what he had mistaken for stockiness was actually muscle. The guy might be small but he was powerful.

"I really am fascinated by your memory but I need to be sure that it's as good as you say. I'm not going to show you too many more pictures, though. Maybe a few later," he amended. "Right now, I want to go a little more _historical_." And he chuckled again - his laugh was really beginning to creep his prisoner out.

"Who are you?" Shawn demanded. "What do you _want_?"

Mallow looked surprised but unfazed. "I just told you." He frowned as if Shawn was suddenly a very slow pupil. "I want to continue our game." Then he glanced at Shawn's wrists and commented, "Oh, and in case you hadn't noticed, you're going to want to keep your hands quite still. Your feet too, if you hadn't guessed. You probably can't quite see it from your perspective, but you're already on your way to turning your jeans into cut-offs." And he laughed at his own joke.

"Why?" Shawn demanded again. He was searching his memory for something - _anything _about the man in front of him, but there was _nothing - _nothing about the face - nothing about the name...

"You'll see," was the only answer.

Producing a small recorder, Mallow pressed record and said, "Please list off the names of everyone in your kindergarten class."

"What? No!"

He really hadn't thought Mallow could move that quickly, but suddenly the man was up close and personal. And he was driving a fist into Shawn's gut.

A whoosh of air left him gasping, and he saw Mallow's eyes up close for an instant. He was frightened by what he saw for he saw only hate.

Why? What reason did this guy have to hate him?

"'m not going… to play your game," Shawn said when he'd gotten some breath back into his lungs.

Then the doctor straightened, hands on his hips, and scowled. "See what you did?"

But Shawn felt it before he saw it. As soon as he heard the question, his wrists and ankles began to burn and sting.

Shawn looked down and saw that the razor wire had made a deep cut across his left wrist and a shallower one across his right. Blood was running down the armrests of the chair. Thankfully his arms were not positioned for the type of cut that would make him look like a suicide.

From the way his legs felt, he could only guess that the wire around his ankles had done similar work.

"You idiot!" Mallow roared, before visibly struggling to control himself. "Next time… next time, you're going to want to hold tight to the arms of the chair."

Shawn raised his eyebrows at the 'next time.'

"When I hit you, your body wants to move, and you really must fight to keep your arms and legs still, Shawn." Getting himself back under control he grinned at his prisoner.

"Good one," Shawn responded, still somewhat breathless. "I always wondered what Gus meant when he said 'maniacal.' Now I know."

"And now, you'll remember. Because that's what you do. Isn't it, Shawn? You remember. Do you remember who did research on your memory in the past?" Mallow gathered up his recorder and moved to the door. "Do you?" he asked casually.

Shawn only frowned at him. That was the second time he'd asked about past research. "What research are you talking about?" he asked, exasperated.

"Hmm. Perhaps your memory isn't as good as you claim," he paused. "Or perhaps you need more incentive." Mallow considered him for a moment, and Shawn felt like a bug under a magnifying glass. But then the doctor made some kind of decision. "I think I'll let you ponder the lesson you learned here today. That's enough for now. Good night, Mr. Spencer."

And he left. Once the door was closed and Shawn heard the lock click, the room was plunged into inky blackness.

oO0Oo

When Gus strolled into the station Saturday morning, he greeted Buzz, and then wandered over to where Juliet was refilling her coffee cup. "Hey, Jules."

But Juliet was quite not her usual bright self. She seemed annoyed, although she tried to smile at him. "Have you seen Shawn?"

Gus frowned. "He was supposed to pick you up at the airport."

She scowled, annoyance returning. "Yes, but he never showed. I had to ride with Lassiter and Marlowe."

Gus raised his eyebrows in question. What was so bad about that?

She huffed out a breath and asked quietly. "Have you ever ridden in a car with still-fairly-newlyweds who have just been apart _for the first time_ in their marriage?" She glanced at her partner to be sure he hadn't heard.

"Eew," Gus sympathized.

"Yeah. I mean, I'm happy for them – I am – but that was a little more than I really wanted to see," Juliet cringed. "Where _is_ Shawn?" She looked at Gus, obviously expecting him to know.

Gus shook his head. "I don't know."

"You don't?" She looked at him, puzzled, but now just a hint of concern was seeping in. She pulled out her phone and dialed. She listened and then shook her head. "Voicemail. Again. Gus…?"

It was Gus's turn to get concerned. "I was supposed to get together with him last night for a CHiPs marathon, but he never showed."

"He told me about that. He was really looking forward to it."

The two of them looked at each other. Was this something to worry about or not? Knowing Shawn, either he was off chasing some ridiculous whim or he'd gotten himself in real trouble. And one was just as likely as the other.

"Why are you two making eyes at each other?" Lassiter demanded, crabby that he'd had to come straight to work instead of going home to his wife.

There was a pause.

"Nothing," Juliet answered. "Gus and I are just going to run a quick errand. I'll be right back."

"If this has to do with Spencer…"

"I'll be right back," Juliet answered with a finality that prevented him from arguing. She then headed out to the parking lot with Gus.

Once they were out of Lassiter's earshot, Gus called Henry. "Is Shawn over at your house?"

"No, haven't seen him all week, why?"

"Wasn't he over there last night helping you with some project?"

There was a long pause. When Henry spoke, there was worry in his voice. "What's he gotten himself into now?"

"Probably nothing. Really!" Gus replied quickly, not wanting Shawn's dad to worry. "He just missed an appointment. An appointment _early_ this morning."

"Oh. He's probably still asleep! Gus, you know as well as I do that if we worried every time Shawn missed an appointment, we'd be headed for an early grave… But… you'll let me know if there _is_ anything to worry about, right?"

"Will do." Gus ended the call as confidently as possible but turned worried eyes toward Juliet.

She took a deep breath as she got into the Blueberry, Gus sliding behind the driver's seat. "Let's go look."

oO0Oo

How do you sleep when you are terrified to move your hands or feet more than a centimeter in any direction?

How do you sleep sitting up in a metal, straight-backed chair?

How do you sleep knowing you've been kidnapped by a crazy person and no one even realizes you're missing?

You don't.

These were among the things Shawn pondered during the long hours of the night. At least, he assumed it was night. It was certainly dark.

He really had no idea what time it was or how many hours had passed. But it _felt_ like an eternity.

Finally – and without warning – the room was flooded with light. Actually, it was just the two dim bulbs in the ceiling, but after straining his eyes to see anything at all for so long, they felt like two brilliant floodlights.

The locks clicked and the door swung open, revealing a well-rested Dr. Mallow.

He smiled, returned to his chair, and pulled out the recorder from yesterday. Once again, he pressed record and spoke politely. "Good morning, Shawn. I trust you slept well." And again he laughed. This guy really cracked himself up. "Now, please list off the names of everyone in your kindergarten class."

Shawn stopped blinking at the lights and just stared at him. "Look-" he said tiredly, trying to reason with the man. "Why don't you just tell me what it is you really want to know? We're both reasonable men, here. Just tell me and maybe we can avoid all the theatrics?"

His efforts to talk his way out of this mess only got him a fist to the face. Mallow punched him so hard his head snapped back and he saw stars. His eyes filled with tears and his nose began to bleed.

"_I_ make the demands, Mister Spencer." Mallow growled low. "Now." He said, sitting back down, he took a deep breath to calm himself. "Your Kindergarten class, please."

"Why… why would you _possibly _want to know that?" Unable to wipe at his nose, Shawn spit out a mouthful of blood.

"Oh, I don't... I couldn't care less. But I can check if you're right." Calm once again, he shrugged. "And it is _very _important that I know how much you remember from when you were that age. If you miss any – even one name – I will know and I will punish you. Now start."

"That's over a hundred kids."

Mallow just smiled. "One hundred forty-six to be exact – as I'm sure you remember. Now start."

Shawn stared at him. Well, _talking_ was what he did best, and apparently as long as he was talking, Mallow wouldn't hurt him.

At least he had learned something: Whatever the doc wanted - it had something to do with him when he was five. He turned his memory in that direction. Plus, Gus would soon be noticing that something wasn't right and before he knew it, Lassie and Jules – his sweet Jules – would be breaking down that door, so he took a deep breath and began… slowly.

As stall tactics go, listing off one hundred forty-six names was not too shabby. "Gus… Jason… Dennis…"

"Uh, uh, ahh! Mr. Spencer." Mallow shook his finger under Shawn's swelling nose. "_Full_ names and alphabetical order according to last names."

Shawn glared at him but took a deep breath and started over. "Eric Adel… Nathan Affleck – no relation to Ben… Maria Aguilar… Marianne Ajune… Jose Alvarez… Alex Brillian… Or do you want Alexander?"

"Alex is fine."

Shawn nodded warily, spit more of the blood that still flowed from his nose and swallowed. "Alex Brillian… Adele Bussow…"

Mallow sat and listened, recorder in hand, a satisfied smirk on his face.

oO0Oo

When Gus and Juliet arrived, having decided that Psych was the best place to start looking, Gus stood in the doorway asking himself one question: "If I was missing, what would Shawn do?"

Juliet was already walking around looking for any clue as to Shawn's whereabouts, but all she saw was the usual mess her boyfriend insisted on leaving in his wake. "Do you see anything odd? Anything out of place – or new? Anything missing?"

Gus nodded to himself and chewed on the inside of his cheek. Yep, that's what Shawn would be looking for – well, actually that's what Shawn would have _seen_ the moment he walked in. It would take Gus a little longer. So he got to work.

But he didn't see anything. It bugged him to no end that he was absolutely certain Shawn would have found a clue by now – but of course, the one person they needed to solve this was also the one for whom they were looking.

He grabbed a brownie and ate it in frustration. They were only a little dry after sitting on Shawn's desk all night. He picked up the plate and held it out to Jules who nodded her thanks and took one – she'd missed breakfast on account of her early flight.

"There's probably nothing here," she mumbled around a mouthful of chocolate-caramel goodness and shrugged. "Maybe we should have gone to the house and made sure he _wasn't_ still sleeping."

"Juliet, it's possible that he overslept, but Shawn's pretty much on top of anything that even remotely involves you." He said it so matter of factly that she blushed.

Gus looked away from her blush – he was only being honest – but then he saw something. When he'd lifted the plate, he'd uncovered something new – something odd. He frowned. Setting the plate down on his own desk and brushing crumbs off his fingers, he picked up a business card and a check that had been in the center of Shawn's desk underneath the plate of brownies.

"Huh. Here's something unusual."

Juliet came to look over his shoulder. "Dr. J.M. Mallow–"

"I bet the M stands for Marsh."

"–psychologist," Juliet continued reading, ignoring Gus's comment. "And a check for two hundred dollars." She looked at Gus. "Do you know who this is, or why he's paying Shawn two hundred dollars? Did you get a new case?"

Gus shook his head. "Never heard of him. And I don't _think _Shawn would take a case without telling me, but – come to think of it – Shawn did say he had an 'appointment…' I wonder if this is what he was talking about."

"Well, there's an address here. Let's check it out."

"When do we tell Lassiter?"

"When we have something to tell," Juliet shrugged as they left to check out the address on the card.

oO0Oo

"John Zadler… Amy Zeehn… and Jennifer Zuldernatcher. There. That's it."

He'd managed to stall for what had to be well over fifteen minutes, and that was pretty good in his estimation.

Mallow leaned in. "Yes, Shawn, that was very good. At least I think it was. I will check, and then I will be back."

He stood and moved towards the door. "I have a few other things to check on, too. Have to be sure your friends don't suspect anything, because if they do… Well, that just wouldn't be acceptable." Pausing at the open door, he turned and looked at his prisoner darkly. "Oh, and Shawn, remember… You still haven't answered my question."

Then he was gone.

Shawn was left frowning after him. What question? Who had 'studied' him? What had happened when he was five? He was pretty sure that other than his dad constantly testing him, no one had ever put him under a microscope like this.

And what would Mallow do when he realized there was no answer to his question?

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

Thank-you to everyone who has taken the time to leave me a note. I pour over every word and read them several times. I hope to respond to each of you individually, but in the meantime, **THANK-YOU!**

_Previously…_

_Shawn was left frowning after Mallow. What question? Who had 'studied' him? What had happened when he was five? He was pretty sure that other than his dad constantly testing him, no one had ever put him under a microscope like this. _

_And what would Mallow do when he realized there was no answer to his question?_

_o0o  
_

"_Shawn said he had an 'appointment…' I wonder if this is what he was talking about."_

"_Well, there's an address here. Let's check it out."_

"_When do we tell Lassiter?" Gus asked._

"_When we have something to tell," Juliet shrugged as they left to check out the address on the card._

**oO0Oo  
Testing, Testing, One, Two, Ouch!  
Chapter 3  
oO0Oo**

Gus and Juliet's next stop was the small office building listed on Dr. Mallow's business card.

"It's about time someone paid attention to my complaints!" the landlord of the small office building whined when Juliet and Gus asked him about Dr. Mallow.

"Excuse me?" Gus asked.

"This is the third time this year someone has skipped out on their lease. I've called the police every time and nothing ever comes of it," he complained loudly.

"Dr. Mallow ran out on his lease?"

"Yes, that's what I'm telling you! I try to check in on as many of my tenants as I can over the weekend, and when I got here this morning, Mallow was just gone. He'd only been here two weeks! Plus his deposit check bounced! This is criminal and it's going to put me out of business!"

"Sir, I'm going to ask you to calm down," Juliet soothed. "We will need to take a statement from you. Can you stop by the station this afternoon with any information you have on Dr. Mallow?"

"And can we look around at the office?" Gus asked timidly.

The landlord growled but let them in.

There was nothing to find, though. An hour later, they gave up and left. The small office had been meticulously cleaned.

_Where was Shawn?_

They decided to stop by the house on the way back to the station, just to be sure they had covered every possibility. As they suspected, Shawn wasn't there, but at the very least it gave Juliet the opportunity to pick up her car.

Walking through their house was making Juliet even more nervous. The Saturday paper was still on the front stoop and Friday's mail was still in the box. And while Shawn regularly forgot to bring in the mail, he never missed the newspaper. He still read every headline just to see if there was a case out there that needed his attention.

She joined Gus in the front room. "Okay, now I _am_ worried. The last time you saw Shawn was what? Thursday?"

Gus nodded. "We talked on the phone about our plans for last night."

Juliet sighed and grimaced. "You know I can't do anything _officially_ until it's been 48 hours."

Gus nodded sympathetically. He knew she wanted to work on this as much as he did.

"Look, I've already been away from the station for longer than I should, and I do have other cases that need my attention, especially after being away for two days. Carlton is not going to appreciate this."

Gus knew she was just trying to make herself feel better in her worry for Shawn. "It's okay. You go back to the station, and I'll see what I can find out on my own."

Juliet nodded, gathering up her things and locking the door behind them. "Let's meet at the station at five. That'll be close enough to forty-eight hours."

Gus nodded, wide-eyed at the thought that Shawn had gotten himself into who-knows-what kind of trouble.

oO0Oo

When Mallow returned again, he was grinning and humming, obviously very pleased with himself.

Every muscle in Shawn's body ached. He usually enjoyed having nothing to do, but actually sitting still had never been his strong suit, and sitting in the exact same position for over twenty-four hours was taking its toll on his muscles. He was exhausted. At least his nose and the cuts on his wrists had finally stopped bleeding. He groaned and squinted up at Mallow. "Feeling pretty pleased with yourself, I see. Did you steal candy from babies? Push an old lady under a bus? What?"

Mallow's grin faded for just a moment, but then it was back. "Shawn, that's no way to talk to your host. Especially when I spent the better part of the morning working on a present for you."

"Present?"

"Oh, yes. I think you'll like it very much."

"Look… can't you just tell me what this is all about? None of this makes any sense!" Shawn was too tired and ached too much to come up with something clever.

Mallow smiled, but it was an evil, predatory smile. He walked up to Shawn and leaned in close. "You think you're so smart." He tapped a finger against Shawn's temple while he spoke. "You've got allllll kinds of facts stuffed up in that brain, and you think that makes you better than everybody else. Solving crimes. Seeing things that other people miss, remembering what they forgot. Thinking you know what goes on in someone else's head. You're all alike, you eidetics. I _hate _every one of you. Well, maybe you're not as smart as you think you are. You can't even figure out what I want! Maybe I should just kill you now and get it over with… But you are so much more _promising _than the others!" He leaned in just a little more, staring into Shawn's eyes. "_You_ _**know**_**… **You must! I know you do."

Shawn saw the hate, and the insanity, and he was afraid. Whatever info this guy was after - Shawn didn't have it. He _had to do_ _something_. This guy was crazy. This guy was going to kill him.

Desperate, Shawn made his move.

The doc leaned in yet again to whisper something and Shawn took tight hold of the arm-rests of his chair and pressed his heels against the legs. He drew back as far as he could and then drove his forehead into Mallow's nose with all the strength he had.

With a yelp, Mallow fell back, his nose now mirroring Shawn's.

Unfortunately it didn't quite work as well as Shawn hoped. The doctor was only stunned for a moment, and when he regained his equilibrium, he was angry. Very, very angry.

He regained his feet, his eyes filled with an insane fury, and he punched Shawn in the face – again and again, until – and long after – his victim had lost consciousness.

oO0Oo

Juliet was driving back to the station, but she hardly saw the road. What could have happened to Shawn? They had finished a big case the week before, and as far as she knew, Psych had no new cases. Who was this Mallow?

A noise in her car brought her attention back to the present, and she swore. Her car was overheating badly. She pulled over. After opening the hood and waving futilely at the billowing steam, she grabbed her phone to call first roadside assistance and then Lassiter. Her partner, of course, offered to come and get her, but she'd neglected her duties long enough. No need to cause him to neglect his. "Help is already on the way. I'll probably be in the office in less than an hour. Don't worry about me."

After she put her phone back in her pocket, she looked up to see that another motorist had pulled over behind her to help. Nice to know there were still people in California who would do that. She smiled as he walked up, and tried to ignore the fact that the poor man had a badly swollen nose.

"Need any help?" he asked.

"Thanks, but I've already called roadside assistance. They're on their way."

He seemed like a kind person. "Cell phones are nice in emergencies, aren't they?" he asked, making conversation.

She nodded and looked down the road, watching for the tow truck and a little embarrassed that she wished the nice man would just go away.

"Well, I'll leave you then, if you're sure…"

She nodded and smiled again.

He started to walk back to his car but then turned and said, "Hey, I had this water bottle in the car." He held it out to her. His other hand stayed in his pocket so she wouldn't see the bruises across his knuckles. "You can have it. It's still pretty cold, and you'll probably be out in this sun for a bit."

She smiled and took it from him – mostly so he would leave but also because she realized she was thirsty.

He smiled and walked back to his car.

She glanced at the bottle and made sure the seal was intact – can't be too careful these days. The bottle looked perfectly normal, so after a cursory examination, she opened it and drank.

She glanced back at her good Samaritan and wondered why he hadn't driven off yet. He seemed to be watching her. That was a little creepy, but maybe he only saw her as a true damsel in distress. If he only knew. She frowned as his car seemed to wiggle.

She blinked. Why were her ears suddenly numb?

Why was the ground rushing up at her?

Suddenly realizing she'd been drugged, she used her last conscious thought to toss the bottle under the car and hope that her partner – that _someone _– would find it and understand its significance.

The last thing she saw was her 'rescuer' getting back out of his car.

oO0Oo

When Gus got back to the Psych office, he immediately went to work finding out everything he could on Dr. J.M. Mallow and on the bank that had issued the check.

First he called the bank. It took a little finagling, but he learned that the account had never held more than $100, and that it had been closed out on Friday morning. The customer had left no forwarding information, not that Gus had expected him to. Gus set that information aside for Juliet. The police might be able to get more there, but it was a dead end as far as he was concerned.

Next he went online and found out everything he could on Mallow. On the surface there was nothing unusual or concerning, he seemed to be a normal professor living a quiet life. However, Gus did notice one discrepancy: when he clicked on the faculty contact page, there was a different phone number listed on the University website than there was on the business card. There were many different reasons why Mallow might have more than one contact number, but it was the first clue Gus had found, so he followed up on it. He called the number from the website.

He had a very interesting conversation with Dr. Mallow. The Dr. Mallow to whom Gus spoke had lived in Kansas all his life and had never even visited California – and his middle name was, disappointingly, Michael.

Gus took as many notes as he could on what he learned from the doctor. He ended the call when Dr. Mallow began to be suspicious about someone asking so many strange questions.

As soon as he hung up, his phone rang again. "Shawn?" he asked without thinking.

"Guster!" Lassie's voice boomed, causing Gus to pull the phone away from his ear. "Where is O'Hara? She had some car trouble, but she should have been here over an hour ago! What nonsense has Spencer gotten her into now?"

Gus glanced at his watch and swallowed hard. Lassiter was right. Juliet should have been back at the station ages ago. "Did you call her?" he asked. He'd heard the expression 'his heart was in his throat' before, and Gus was pretty sure said organ had just transplanted itself.

Lassiter, oblivious to the fear in Gus's voice, responded sarcastically. "No, I always call the partner of the useless psychic consultant when I want to get a hold of a _detective! _Of course I called her! I got her voicemail every time. Now where did Spencer drag her off to?"

"Umm. I'll be right there," Gus answered, knowing his enigmatic response would send Lassiter into a frenzy. He gathered up all his notes and headed out to the Blueberry. Hopefully, by the time he got there, Lassiter, being the excellent detective he was, would have figured out that there was something else going on and would have exchanged his anger for concern. Gus really didn't want to get arrested… or hit… or shot…

oO0Oo

Waking from a drugged state is never a pleasant experience. It's disorienting, confusing, and usually painful. Juliet groaned.

She brought her hands up to rub her temples before she even considered trying to open her eyes. Her head was throbbing.

A strange noise stopped her, and she froze, listening. She tried opening her eyes, but as expected, everything was a blur. She put her hands to her head and heard the noise again.

She scrunched her eyes tight, then blinked a few times and her vision focused. She realized what the noise was: her wrists were cuffed to a chain that ran through a metal ring embedded in the wall above where she sat on the floor. It jingled whenever she moved.

Blinking purposefully now, she immediately went into cop mode and gathered all the information currently available to her.

She'd been drugged and subsequently kidnapped by her 'good Samaritan.' She quickly catalogued everything she could remember about him.

She was chained to a wall in a bare cement room but otherwise unharmed.

And she wasn't alone.

There was a chair in the center of the room near the drain. A chair that faced ninety degrees away from her. A chair with a man imprisoned in it. His head was tipped to the side and away from her, but she knew him immediately.

"Shawn?" Juliet asked tentatively.

He didn't respond.

She immediately tried to go to him, but the chain kept her from getting anywhere near him.

She desperately firmed her grip on her cop attitude as she assessed his condition. It was a good thing she knew him so well, because it was impossible to recognize his face. The side facing her was swollen and horribly bruised and bloodied. There was also nearly dried blood streaked down the arms of the chair, apparently from cuts on his wrists.

She studied his form. He was clearly unconscious, his chin was down on his chest, and while she could hear him breathing – something seemed slightly off about that, but she didn't concentrate on it at the moment – he gave no sign that he'd heard her.

_Other_ than that, he seemed unharmed, but she knew there was a lot she couldn't see.

She needed to wake him up to find out what on earth was going on!

She couldn't physically reach him, but she spent considerable time calling to him, trying to wake him. With no success.

Finally his head jerked a fraction and he started moaning, slowly swinging his head from side to side.

"Shawn?" she said louder. "Shawn!"

At that, his head jerked up and he seemed to look around, but he couldn't find her. "Jules?" he asked tentatively. He sounded awful – frightened and in pain – and she realized that he didn't know if he'd really heard her.

"Shawn! I'm here," she said gently.

Then he turned his head toward her, craning his neck, and she gasped in sympathy. The reason he couldn't see her was because the side of his face was so damaged that his left eye was completely swollen shut.

He kept trying and finally managed to turn his head far enough to see her with his right eye, but it was clear that the movement pained him.

"Oh, that's nice, real nice," came the sarcasm. "Bring the most beautiful woman in the world into the room and put her in a spot I can't see… Hey, Jules, how ya doin'?"

She shook her head at his efforts to put her at ease when he was obviously in a great deal of pain.

What she didn't see was the fear that was squeezing the breath from his chest. '_Mallow brought Jules here.'_ Shawn still didn't understand what the doc wanted from him, but he was pretty sure Jules would be used as leverage to get it, and he knew he would be helpless in the face of Jules in any sort of pain.

But she was saying something. He couldn't keep his head turned far enough to see her – it hurt too much, and he didn't have the strength anyway – so he listened carefully, his head tilted attentively toward her.

"Shawn, _what is going on_? Who _is_ this guy? What does he want?"

"Juliet, I am so, so sorry."

"Shawn?" She worried that he wasn't answering her question, but she should have expected that he was way ahead of her.

"I don't know who he is, pretty sure his name's _not_ Mallow though. Or what he wants, but he's going to use you to get it. I can't stop him. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

His voice was filled with pain and sadness, and Juliet wished she could look him in the eyes. "Shawn, we'll get through this toge–"

The door opened before she could finish her thought, and Mallow strode in triumphantly.

His two prisoners braced themselves and determined to be strong for each other. At least they were together now.

TBC…


	4. Chapter 4

_Previously…_

_Juliet was chained to a wall in a bare cement room but otherwise unharmed._

"_Shawn?" She asked tentatively.  
_

_She shook her head at his efforts to put her at ease when he was obviously in a great deal of pain. What she didn't see was the fear that was squeezing the breath from his chest._

_The door opened and Mallow strode in triumphantly._

_His two prisoners braced themselves and determined to be strong for each other. At least they were together now._

_oOo_

_Lassiter, oblivious to the fear in Gus's voice, responded sarcastically. "No, I always call the partner of the useless psychic consultant when I want to get a hold of a detective! Of course I called her! I got her voicemail – twice. Now where did Spencer drag her off to?"_

"_Umm. I'll be right there," Gus answered, knowing his words would send Lassiter into a frenzy. He gathered up all his notes and headed out to the Blueberry. Hopefully, by the time he got there, Lassiter, being the excellent detective he was, would have figured out that there was something else going on and would have exchanged his anger for concern. Gus really didn't want to get arrested… or hit… or shot…_

**oO0Oo  
Testing, Testing, One, Two, Ouch!  
Chapter 4  
oO0Oo**

"Guster!"

Gus cringed. He was barely through the door when he heard the familiar roar – although usually it was a different name being yelled.

Lassiter stood at his desk, hands on hips. "Are you ready to tell me what in Sweet Justice is going on?" The head detective was clearly frustrated, angry, impatient – and yes – concerned.

Gus was good at seeing what people were really feeling even when it didn't show on the outside. A lifetime with Shawn had trained him well.

He maintained his calm in the face of Lassiter's ire and summed up the situation as quickly and clearly as he could. "No one has seen Shawn since I spoke to him Thursday night. We weren't worried until he missed picking Juliet up at the airport this morning. We tried to find anything that might tell us where he was and this is all we found." He placed plastic baggies containing the business card and the check on the head detective's desk. The baggies with the jack-o-lanterns printed on them that Shawn had bought last Halloween had been the only ones in the drawer. He straightened his shoulders and silently dared Lassiter to comment on them.  
"After we checked every place we could think he might be, we split up. Juliet was coming back here to help you, and I went back to Psych to see what I could find on my own since it hasn't yet been 48 hours." He paused and met the detective's eyes, his own full of worry. "That was almost two hours ago."

Lassie picked up the evidence. He suppressed a grimace as he scrutinized it through grinning orange pumpkins. Holding himself tightly under control he asked, "What have you found?"

Gus was grateful for his response. They really didn't have time for anger and yelling; they had friends to find. He pointed at the business card. "We found both items on Shawn's desk, but I have no idea where they came from. This person doesn't exist. I was able to get in touch with the _real_ Dr. Mallow in Kansas. He's never been to California." Then he gestured towards the check. "That bank account was closed yesterday morning and never had more than a hundred bucks in it anyway."

Lassiter nodded, thinking quickly. "Dobson!" He handed over the bag containing the check. "Find out everything you can about the person who opened this account, and run the check itself through forensics for prints or anything else they can find."

Gus also wordlessly handed over the notes he'd taken earlier while speaking with Dr, Mallow..

A nod and the officer was gone.

"McNab!"

"Yes sir!"

Lassiter jumped as Buzz was standing right at his shoulder.

Lassiter handed him the baggie with the business card. "See what you can find out. I need everything there is to know about this Mallow and any prints that might be on the card. Take a CSI team over to that office and check it out thoroughly."

Gus added his notes here as well, then Buzz was gone.

Lassiter looked at Gus, both of them thinking, _'Now what?'_

Gus waited patiently as he understood that police procedures needed to be followed and there was little he could do to help with that.

Lassiter turned on his heel, already walking as he spoke. "We'll put traces on their cell phones – see if we can find them that way. I'll put a BOLO out on O'Hara's car and call her road-side assistance company…" he frowned as he tried to recall which service she used. "I'll get CSI there, once we locate it. It won't take long. Maybe they'll find something." He nodded to himself. "You and I will head out as soon as I bring the chief up to speed."

Gus nodded his understanding, but Lassiter had one more thing to say before he entered Chief Vick's office. With a finger jabbed in Gus' direction he said, "You call his dad."

oO0Oo

"So, Shawn, do you like your present?" Mallow asked.

When Shawn only glared, Mallow turned and went to kneel in front of Jules, careful to stay just out of her reach. "Your boyfriend is _fascinating_! I didn't spend _nearly_ this much time with the others. They were worthless. They had nothing to give me – but Shawn? Shawn might actually be worth something to me! I might be able to _use _him." He grinned again. "I am almost certain he holds the answer to The Question."

Both Juliet and Shawn heard the capital letters in Mallow's voice and wondered what it meant.

Then Shawn interrupted, trying desperately to bring attention back to himself and away from Jules. "Hey Jules! Is he doing the maniacal thing? I mean, seriously, next to maniacal in the dictionary is a picture of his grin. Am I right?"

Juliet recognized what he was doing and tried to counter. "Yup, Shawn! It's maniacal alright. He's crazy."

But Shawn had succeeded and Mallow came back to him. The man roughly grabbed Shawn's chin, making Shawn gasp at the sudden pain. He was pretty sure the doc had broken something because he could feel things grind painfully in the side of his face and that really wasn't cool.

"I really did a number on you, didn't I? Can you see out of that eye at all?" He twisted Shawn's face in his grip. Shawn tried to swallow his whimper and failed miserably, but he was glad Mallow wasn't near Jules anymore.

"Well, that's only the beginning." The doc gave a final vicious twist and let go, returning to his own seat near the door. "Wait until you see what I've got planned. But first! Let's show off for your girlfriend, shall we? From what I understand about your captivating story, she doesn't know what you can do, does she?"

Shawn just looked at him. This was good. If they could get back to the talking part, there would be less pain – at least as long as Mallow kept to subjects about which Shawn could talk.

If Shawn knew anything, it was that Mallow wanted _something_. First off, he obviously wanted power over his victims, but there was something else, something specific. He wanted it desperately enough to go through all this trouble to find it. He believed Shawn knew it, and he would stop at nothing to find it. Why he didn't just come out and _ask _was a mystery. But as long as they kept talking, they were giving Lassie and Gus – and the rest of the SBPD now that one of their own was _also_ missing – time to find them.

"So Shawn," Mallow's sickly amused voice pulled him back from his musings, "tell me what you remember about the day you met Detective O'Hara."

Shawn raised his eyebrows at that – at least – he raised one of them. If he himself could have chosen a memory to relive, he couldn't have done better. He could go on and on about that day and he wouldn't mind a bit.

He smiled softly with the side of his mouth that would move. "Ahh, Jules. That day… Y'know, my dad says moments happen all the time. Moments that can change lives. That one changed mine.

"I got bored." He smiled ruefully and shook his head. "Who knew that the decision to go out and get a newspaper would change everything? When I came back to my seat there was a beautiful woman sitting in it." He closed his eyes and sighed. This was a memory he had played back so many times in his head it was a pleasure to relive it again – and he could use a little pleasure right now. "You were incredible. With your golden hair and that sweater… it was, what? Not orange. Not peach. Gus would know. But it had that tiny bit of lace around the edges that was so…" His fingers described the lace as his voice trailed off. "But it wasn't even that you were the most beautiful woman on the planet, although you are... You laughed at my jokes… That's one of my favorite qualities in a woman. Beautiful… kind… smart…

"And you were a good detective even then - _brilliant_... And on your first real case. You were calmly talking to some idiot at the diner like nothing was going on. I had _no idea _until the perp walked in. You'd picked the perfect vantage point, used your newspaper for cover, had control of the layout – you'd think my dad had trained you–"

"'No idea...' he had no idea!" Mallow chortled. "For him to miss something like that is truly noteworthy. But enough of this. I want details." Mallow demanded. "How did she do her hair?"

Shawn glared at him for interrupting his lovely memory but tried to keep him talking, "It was long, wavy–"

"Accessories?"

Shawn's voice held less animation now, "Gold. Hoop earrings, gold watch. Tan purse with gold accents–"

"Pants?" Mallow asked, becoming impatient.

This wasn't fun anymore. "Skirt."

"Color?"

"Charcoal."

"Tight? Short?"

Shawn didn't answer – the lecherous tone Mallow had adopted shut down any chance of him describing Juliet any further.

"C'mon, Shawn, you were having such a good time telling Juliet how beautiful she is… don't stop now."

Shawn just glared at him with his one good eye. "You have no right to even be in the same room with her…" he growled. "You– Augh!"

Mallow had once again driven a fist into Shawn's ribs. Something cracked.

"Shawn!" Juliet cried. "Stop it! Leave him alone! What do you want?"

At that, Mallow turned to her, leaving Shawn gasping.

Shawn sipped at the air because, while he desperately needed to fill his lungs, it was incredibly painful to do so.

Ignoring her question, the doctor knelt once more in front of her.

Mallow interrupted. "As enjoyable as this is, we need to get back to things I can verify. And there is no real record of your first meeting… unless… Detective?"

Juliet was still staring at Shawn.

"Detective!" he shouted, spittle flying in her face. "Is that the way it happened?"

Juliet swallowed. Her voice, when she spoke, was soft with wonder in spite of the monster in front of her. That was seven years ago! If she hadn't been so nervous about the case she'd been working on – her first with Lassiter – she wouldn't have remembered much at all, certainly not what jewelry she'd worn that day - but Shawn obviously did. "Yes… that's what happened."

"Hmm," Mallow chuckled. "It's fun to watch him, isn't it? With the right motivation, he's like a trained seal. But I really need to get back to things I can check. Can't have him faking, you know. Because you and I both know how good he is at faking, don't we?"

Juliet tore her eyes away from Shawn to stare at their captor. How did he know so much about them?

"Oh, Detective, I know we've only just met, but you will soon find out that I have taken a great deal of time to learn about Mr. Spencer. His years pretending to be psychic? Not really all that hard for someone like him."

'_Someone like him_?' Juliet looked back at Shawn. She'd told Shawn and Gus she didn't want to know how they solved cases, but she suspected she was about to find out.

Mallow stepped out of the room for a moment, and when he returned he was holding an old, worn scrapbook. "Recognize this?"

Shawn looked at it through his one good eye and gasped.

Mallow was also playing with a switchblade, but the book caused far more fear in Shawn than the knife.

Juliet recognized it a moment later, and her skin crawled when she realized what it meant.

Mallow just chuckled. "Yes, I stopped by your house earlier and picked up a few things." He looked at Juliet. "You almost caught me, coming home to look for Shawn. I didn't expect that. That's when I tampered with your car, as well, in case you were wondering." He sat down and casually opened the book on his lap. "So, Shawn. Tell me about your fifth birthday."

When Shawn had moved in with Juliet, his dad had insisted that he take some of the boxes from the attic. Henry had said that he shouldn't have to store Shawn's old things anymore now that his son had his own storage space. One of the boxes had contained scrapbooks of Shawn's childhood that his mom had meticulously put together. The box hadn't been opened in over twenty years.

Juliet had been thrilled to get a glimpse of Shawn as a boy and had wanted to sit down and go through them with Shawn immediately, but he had insisted they were boring. And then something had come up and they'd never gotten back to them. Seeing one here, now, in Mallow's hands meant that he had definitely been _in their house_.

Shawn was desperate to stall Mallow for as long as possible, so he began to describe, with as much detail as he possibly could, the Spiderman party he'd had that year. He described the cake, the games, and the guests for as long as he possibly could.

Juliet listened and watched. She was well aware that Mallow was watching her listen as he played with his blade, just as closely as he was watching Shawn. It creeped her out, but she was more invested in trying to understand what, exactly, Shawn was doing – he couldn't possibly remember that many details about the party. How could anyone remember what shoes the girls at their fifth birthday party had been wearing and whether or not they matched the clothes? But Mallow was checking what he said against the scrap book, and he seemed satisfied.

Shawn finally ran out of random facts about his guests and their antics that day. Knowing exactly what was in the scrapbook helped. All he had to do was describe what was in one picture after the next. Suddenly he was very thankful his mom had been so thorough.

He was just starting on the presents he'd received, describing the wrapping paper first in order to waste more time, when Mallow interrupted. He'd been waiting for Shawn to get to the gifts. "But Shawn, what about the gift you _didn't_ get? The one you were so sure your dad had gotten you?"

Shawn's unfocused-lost-in-memory gaze suddenly focused. He tensed. "The remote control car?"

Mallow smiled and nodded slowly. "Tell me about that."

Shawn stared at him for a moment.

Juliet couldn't see Shawn's eyes, but she read something subtle in his position. She was sure that he had just realized something very important and he was trying fiercely to hide it from their captor. She jumped in to help distract Mallow. "You got a remote control car for your birthday? I always wanted one."

Shawn wished he could send her a grateful look. He swallowed and continued. "I didn't. That's the point."

"What do you mean?" she asked, playing along.

"I _thought_ my dad was giving me the RC car. I'd seen clues. I'd heard him talking about it on the phone with someone. I saw a magazine on his bedside table open to an ad for one. There was other stuff, too, but the clincher was when I saw a bag from that same store smushed into a corner of the recycling bin. I was so _sure_."

Juliet wasn't sure if she should pursue this line or not, but she was genuinely fascinated now. "You were following clues when you were five?"

"You've met my dad, right?" Shawn asked with a bit of sarcasm as Mallow roared with insane laughter.

Shawn just kept talking, kept desperately delaying, because this situation had just become _infinitely _worse than anything he had imagined it might be.

He knew now what 'The Question' was.  
And worse, he knew what the answer to The Question was.

"I threw a fit." His voice shook. "Right there at the party. I'd gotten all these great gifts from my friends – _and_ from my parents – and I threw a fit because I didn't get that remote control car. I was such a brat."

Mallow continued to laugh, tears streaming down his face.

Juliet felt sick. And she didn't even know what connection Shawn had just made.

Shawn felt dead inside.

The doctor pointed at Shawn with his blade and looked at Juliet. "He figured it out! He knows!" he cackled. "He knows what I want! _And _he knows what I will do if I don't get it." And then, once again he crossed the room in one stride and grabbed Shawn's chin painfully. Spittle flew as he growled into Shawn's face, "Don't you? That incredible mind finally worked it out, didn't it?" But it wasn't a question. "And since you now know who I am, you have already seen what I will do if you don't give me what I want." And, apparently to reinforce his point, he suddenly flipped the blade around in his fist, jammed it deep into Shawn's thigh and left it there.

"Shawn!" Juliet cried as he shouted in pain.

Gritting his teeth, "I'mokayI'mokayI'mokay" he gasped to Juliet, panting. Then, unable to move due to the razor wire, he turned his head to glare up at Mallow, his face contorted with pain.

Mallow only smiled. He had all the power now, and he knew it. He reveled in it. "Not so smart now, are you? You _will_ give me what I want. And I want you to think about that for a while."

He stopped at the doorway and turned, grinning. "This is really very exciting! I have been searching for this answer for _months_! And now, Shawn, you _will _tell me what I want to know. This is _very _exciting!" Then, giggling, he left, slamming and locking the door behind him.

Shawn and Juliet were both left breathless. Shawn's chin dropped to his chest as he forced himself to breathe through the pain. He had to think. He had to find a way to get Juliet out of there.

Juliet tore her eyes from the blood soaking Shawn's jeans and spreading across his thigh and broke the silence. "Shawn?" she whispered.

Dazed, in pain, and filled with a horrible dread, Shawn's mind was working, spinning swiftly through everything he had just learned and trying frantically to find a way out… a loophole… a bluff… _something_.

"Shawn!" Juliet knew only one thing: she needed to know what was going on!

Shawn twisted hard in his seat to look at her, grimacing when he realized he'd forgotten to grab his armrest.

Juliet's eyes widened when she saw the cut opened on his right wrist. Like Shawn, she'd assumed he was restrained by one of the usual means and hadn't really looked. She was just now seeing the razor wire.

But Shawn was looking at her with his good eye. "We have to get you out of here."

Juliet met his gaze evenly. "Um, we _both_ need to get out of here, Shawn. You don't have to prot–"

"_No!_" Shawn interrupted, almost shouting. His voice cracked and she stopped. He'd never spoken to her like that before. "I know what he wants." His voice was now a scared, desperate whisper. He swallowed and Juliet saw his terror. "He's right... I know who he is." He continued softly. "He's going after _my mom_… Jules. And he'll use _you_ \- he'll hurt you until I tell him where she is."

She stared back at him, and she couldn't help it – her detective's mind wanted to know _how he had figured it out_.

"It doesn't matter what happens to me," he continued. "If you're here…" he paused. "If he hurts you…" His voice dropped once again to a whisper. "I'll give him anything he asks." He turned away from her. His voice was flat, his body slumped. "And then he'll kill my mom." Everything about him shouted hopelessness.

TBC…


	5. Chapter 5

A/N… There is just a TON of exposition in this chapter. The author (that's me! :-D) would like to thank you for your continued patience, latitude and understanding. (At least you get some explanations) 

Previously…

_Lassiter turned on his heel, already walking as he spoke. "We'll put traces on their cell phones – see if we can find them that way. I'll put a BOLO out on O'Hara's car and call her road-side assistance company…" he frowned as he tried to recall which service she used. "I'll get CSI out to that scene, too, since that's her last known location. Maybe they'll find something." He nodded to himself. "You and I will head out there as soon as I bring the chief up to speed."_

_Gus nodded his understanding, but Lassiter had one more thing to say before he entered Chief Vick's office. "You call his dad."  
_

**oO0Oo  
Testing, Testing, One, Two, Ouch!  
Chapter 5  
oO0Oo**

Later that same day, Lassiter and Gus returned from investigating Juliet's abandoned vehicle. Lassiter strode into the station, already shouting for Buzz and Dobson and somebody had better have some good news.

Gus followed more quietly, frantic in his own right. He was not surprised to see Henry just coming out of the chief's office. As soon as Gus had informed him that his son was missing, Henry had, of course, demanded to be part of the investigation. Judging by his expression, he'd just been informed of the current situation.

"What did you find at the scene?" Henry stopped the head detective with a look, and Gus was impressed with Lassiter's ability to stay calm enough to answer – because they hadn't found anything.

"O'Hara's car was there. It was definitely tampered with, one of the radiator hoses had been cut so that it would overheat. They'll go over it for prints, but I doubt they'll find anything. The only clue we found was a water bottle with traces of some kind of sedative inside. The lab will let us know what type exactly, but they were able to give us that much on scene."

He noticed McNab standing nervously off to the side, files in his hands. "Detective Lassiter, this is the preliminary forensic report from the suspect's office building…"

Lassiter snatched it from his hands impatiently. He grimaced at the news he found there. "CSI didn't find anything at the office, but they found the dumpster where this Mallow left his garbage. Only item of note? A nearly empty water bottle," he looked up at the others meaningfully, "with traces of sedative inside."

Henry considered the news. "So Shawn was somehow lured to this office, drugged, and taken who knows where. Our suspect also tampered with Juliet's car and followed her until it broke down. He must have pretended to be some kind of Samaritan. He offered her the water, drugged her, and carried her off too." 

Lassiter nodded grimly, agreeing that it was the most likely scenario, the identical water bottles tying the two together. He hated the Spencers and their habit of throwing out wild guesses that turned out to be incredibly logical once he caught up.

Henry continued, "The question is: Why?"

Before Lassiter could respond, Buzz was holding out another file. "Preliminary report on the evidence brought in by Mr. Guster." He offered Gus a small smile which was returned along with a nod.

"Must be a slow day in the lab," Lassiter mumbled as he scanned the new info and reported on it as well. "The business card was clean other than Spencer, but there was a partial print on the check." He squinted at the report. "A Raymond Griffin? It says here he was convicted of–"

"He was convicted of murdering two little girls in Grand Island, Nebraska back in the 70s," Henry interrupted, causing everyone within earshot to stare at him.

"Henry?" Lassiter asked, his voice deceptively calm. "You know this guy?" It certainly wouldn't be the first time that someone from Henry's past had gone after Shawn.

Henry just looked at him for a moment, but everything about his stance was broadcasting that this was bad – really bad. "Nope... But I know who does."

oO0Oo

Juliet stared at Shawn. Her heart and her badge were at war.

She ached for him. Seeing him beaten, bleeding, and trapped when there was nothing she could do to help him was unbearable. But her cop training was trying to dispassionately ascertain his condition. Ironically, it was a good thing Mallow had left the knife in place. It was the only thing slowing the bleeding. His breathing was shallow, but it seemed unimpeded, so hopefully Mallow's punches hadn't done too much damage to his insides. As long as he didn't move too much, his condition, while poor, should remain relatively stable.

At the same time, about fifteen different questions were screaming around in her mind. She grabbed the most comforting one. "Isn't your mom in New York? So even if you tell him, we'll have time to–"

Shawn barked a short humorless laugh and coughed. "She gets in tonight. She's working with the LAPD next week, but she's flying in a few days early for a visit. Dad's picking her up-. Oh, sweetheart, I forgot to tell you, we're invited for dinner Saturday night." Then he realized it probably _was _Saturday night. He laughed ironically, then moaned as his ribs protested the movement. "I guess we're going to be late."

"Shawn," she whispered. "How do you know all this?"

He knew she wasn't asking about his mom's travel plans. He knew what she meant, but his brain and his mouth weren't getting along very well at the moment. "That wasn't in there."

"What?"

"How tight are the cuffs?"

"Shawn…"

"Can you get any leverage on the ring? How's it attached to the wall? It's screwed in, right? Not driven like a nail… Can you twist it at all?"

"Shawn!"

"Please!" His voice was softly desperate. "Please try."

She hesitated. She couldn't leave him! But he was right; being free from the wall would be an advantage no matter what, so she turned on her knees and faced the ring. She wrapped the chain around it to give herself some leverage and began to twist with all her strength.

"Righty tighty, lefty loosey," Shawn whispered. "He won't be gone long."

Grunting with the effort, she continued with her line of questioning. "_What_ wasn't in there?"

He relented. "The RC car. That wasn't in the scrapbook. There's _no possible way_ that he could know _anything _about my fifth birthday that _wasn't _in that scrapbook... unless..."

"How do you know it wasn't? You told me you hadn't seen that book in twenty years." She strained to see any movement at all. "And if it wasn't, how did Mallow know about it?"

Shawn sighed, and coughed. Deep breaths seemed difficult for him. "I saw the book. I know what's in it. It doesn't matter how long ago." He swallowed. Since he couldn't watch what she was doing, he absently watched his blood. It was dripping down the arm of the chair from the cut in his wrist and the puddle under his thigh was growing. He wondered idly how long it would be before the blood loss would actually affect him, or if it already had and he just didn't know it. "I know where that story _was_, though… The only place he could have seen it. It explains everything."

Juliet readjusted her grip and tried again.

Shawn continued. There was nothing else he could do. "It was in an academic paper my mom published when I was five. She included the story about the toy car because it demonstrated my abilities."

"Your… abilities?" Juliet grunted. Her wrists were red and raw where the cuffs dug into them, but she kept trying. It was their only chance.

"There were three of us she researched for that paper." Shawn voiced a shuddering sigh. "_That's_ who the 'others' were." He imitated Mallow's voice. "'_I didn't spend nearly this much time with the others. They had nothing to give me_.' He went after each of us one by one trying to find her… _**Research!**_" he huffed out as if to himself. "Why didn't I _think_…? _That's_ what he meant!"

"Wait. If it was your mom's paper, wouldn't her name be on the front page? Wouldn't he _know _who the author was? He'd be after her already. And you still haven't explained _why _he's after her in the first place."

"Any luck?"

"No!" Juliet said with frustration. This ring had to turn!

Shawn closed his eyes, laid his head back against the chair, and began his story with, "Guess you'll have to do the reveal, Jules." because he was pretty sure that he wasn't getting out of here. But if _she_ could, then both Jules and his mom would be safe. And that was all that mattered to him.

He continued. "In the mid 70s, there was a double homicide that shocked a small town in Nebraska. Two young girls were horribly beaten and stabbed multiple times." He'd come across the file including the crime scene photos while searching his mom's closet for Halloween costume materials for himself and Gus. He'd been only eleven at the time.

His curiosity had gotten the better of him and he'd opened the file. They had been the first photos he'd seen that had been quite that graphic. He kept every memory, but those had been _seared_ into his brain. He grimaced and opened his eyes trying to dismiss the images. "Long story short, cops would never have caught the guy if not for a criminal profile done by a young and talented psychologist. It was the proverbial nail in the coffin of his capture _and _his conviction."

"Your mom." Juliet ignored the pain in her wrists and kept twisting. Had she felt some give?

"Yup. He was convicted and sentenced to life. Of course he blamed her. He threatened to get revenge on her for years: letters, emails, phone calls… all kinds of threats. She tried every legal means to get him to stop but nothing worked. Somehow they kept coming. Finally she was so affected by them she quit. She gave up a promising career in profiling, changed her name and moved to California to try to get away from him. She was _that _desperate. And it worked. The threats stopped. Any movement yet?"

"Maybe. It seems looser."

"Keep going."

"You, too." His story was distracting her – it was helping.

"So after about what – thirty years in prison? He gets out on parole… Must've been last year…" he said softly to himself, then continued with his story. "The only things he could've known about my mom were her name - her birth name which wouldn't be any help to him since she'd legally changed it - and the fact that she had a tonal eidetic memory."

"A what?" Jules asked, breathing hard.

Shawn smiled softly. "It's like a photographic memory, only with sound."

"She remembers everything she hears?"

Shawn nodded. "She was kinda famous for it at the time of the trial. Never took notes. Remembered everything."

Juliet kept working; there was definite movement. "So why couldn't he find her?"

"She changed her name when she moved to California. Then she changed it again when she got married." He smiled again. "Took my dad's name. Moved again to be with him. But she still used her birth name for professional stuff 'cause it was better known, at least in those circles – more likely to get published - to get noticed…  
That was a mistake.

So, _years _later, probably without even thinking about it, she published her research on eidetic memory under her _birth _name: the name _he _knew. It was _that paper_ that she published under _that name _that he found. Has to be."

She'd turned the ring a quarter turn. "You mentioned that. Tell me about the paper."

"She did a research paper on eidetic memory. Not just tonal like hers but full photographic memory. She studied three people: a guy in Oregon, a woman in Wisconsin, and her own five year old son."

"You."

"Me."

"You have this… eidetic memory?" She grunted with effort.

"I can't ever forget anything, Jules, even when I want to."

She paused in her work, thinking about that. "Wow," she whispered. And suddenly a lot of things she'd never understood about Shawn - the way he made impossible connections, _saw _things that no one else could see, understood facts instantly that took her hours of research - it all made sense. But he wasn't paying attention to her reaction.

"_Research! _Why couldn't I see? Why didn't I make the connection?" Shawn was furious with himself. If he could have figured out who Mallow was sooner, maybe he could have avoided all of this somehow.

Then he answered his own question. "Because it didn't seem like research. What she did with me… I was _five_... it was more like fun and games. I had no idea she was studying me at the time. It was only later – _years _later – when I actually read her paper…"

"Wait-" a thought had occurred to Juliet. "Research papers don't normally contain names of the subjects. How did he find _you_?"

Shawn shrugged. "When he found the paper, he must have gone back to the university. They would have had her notes on file. That's what I would've done."

He forced himself back to his story. "Since that was his only lead, he must have checked us out one by one. I remember reading a few months ago that the woman in Wisconsin had been killed in a home invasion, but I never thought anything of it. There's no way she would have know where my mom was. She never stood a chance with him.  
I don't know about the Oregon-ite… Oregonian? Guy from Oregon. But I'm guessing he's dead too. And now me."

"But if he knows it's your _mom…_"

"I don't think he does. That wouldn't have been very professional, so she made no mention of our relationship in the paper. I don't think he's figured that part out yet. I think that's why he's using _you_: He doesn't believe I would sacrifice the _woman I love_ for some researcher I met once when I was five. He didn't even know if I would remember – that's why he tested me… But now? He expects me to sing as soon as he comes back in here… And then he'll…" He scrunched his eyes shut, trying not to see the crime photos again. _'That's what he'll to do to Jules.' _ He clenched his fists, causing his wrists to bleed again.

Juliet, finishing the first turn, didn't notice. "It's working, Shawn! I think it's getting easier to turn."

"Great work, sweetheart. Keep going." But his voice contained none of the enthusiasm it should have.

TBC...


	6. Chapter 6

_Previously…_

_Lassiter squinted at the report. "A Raymond Griffin? It says here he was convicted of–"_

"_He was convicted of murdering two little girls in Grand Island, Nebraska back in the 70s," Henry interrupted, causing everyone within earshot to stare at him._

"_Henry?" Lassiter asked, his voice deceptively calm. "You know this guy?" It certainly wouldn't be the first time that someone from Henry's past went after Shawn._

_Henry just looked at him for a moment, but everything about his stance was broadcasting that this was bad – really bad. "Nope... But I know who does."_

**oO0Oo**

**Testing, Testing, One, Two, Ouch!**

**Chapter 6**

**oO0Oo**

Henry explained how he happened to be familiar with the case. "Shawn's mom did the profile that got this guy caught and convicted to life." He shook his head. "This is about revenge."

Lassiter swallowed as he looked over the main points on Griffin's extensive rap sheet. "Henry, this guy's a homicidal maniac - a true psychopath..."

"Oh yeah," Henry agreed, already pulling out his phone to call Maddie. "What I don't understand is why she wasn't informed that he'd been released. He was after her from the moment his conviction came through; they should have let her know as soon as his name came up for parole!" But then his ex-wife answered, and he turned away to talk to her and bring her up to speed on what was happening.

"Henry? What is it?" Maddie knew instantly that something was wrong, just by the tone of his voice.

"Maddie, Raymond Griffin was released." Henry said flatly. "Several _months _ago."

There was a shocked pause as Maddie processed that bombshell. "No…" She breathed. "He _can't _be out. Why wasn't I informed? When did he get out?! Henry…"

Henry Spencer had never been one to beat around the bush. "He's got Shawn."

There was no sound from the phone.

He might as well get it over with. "And we think he has Juliet as well."

"No! How… Henry…" Her voice trembled as she whispered, "You know what he will _do_."

"I know, Maddie. We're trying to follow up on a few leads here, but we may need you."

"No!" Maddie spoke with finality. "Why would he take Shawn? Not because of _me… _He couldn't _know _about Shawn. I wasn't even married when he went away. I changed my name. There isn't any way to…"

"Maddie, we have his prints. I don't know how, but he is definitely involved."

When she didn't respond, he continued. "We don't have a lot of leads here, Mads. We could really use your help. No one knows this guy like you do."

"Henry, I can't." Maddie whispered, frightened. "I fought that for _years_. He got into my head. I went through months of therapy just to get over him. I don't know if I can go through all that again."

Henry pursed his lips and regarded his shoes intently. He deeply regretted what he was asking. "You can do it for Shawn." He said quietly. "You can help us save him... _and _Juliet... from that monster."

There was silence on the line, but Henry could hear the hitch in her breathing. He knew they were both thinking of the horrific acts this man had committed - things that he might be doing to their son. "You won't have to face him, I promise. Just come down to the station, look at the file and tell us what you can. It could make all the difference, Maddie."

In his mind's eye he could see her steel herself. The shoulders went back, the head went up, and her eyes took on a look of determination that had once been so familiar to him.

"I'll be there in a few minutes." Her voice sounded confident.

He closed his eyes and ended the call.

While Henry was on the phone, Gus, McNab, and Chief Vick who had stepped out of her office to hear the latest were all looking to Lassiter. "What's our next move, Detective?"

The head detective took a deep breath and grasped at the only straw available. "Since O'Hara's car was fine until she picked it up at home earlier today, it's highly likely he was at her house at some point and tampered with it.. We'll go through all the nearby traffic cams… ATM cams… anything we can find that might give us a view of the streets around her home. If we can figure out what he's driving, we'll be one step closer to finding him."

It was a long shot, and everyone knew it.

Gus frowned, thinking. "Is there a chance he was at the Psych office?"

Lassiter rolled his eyes. "I don't know his recent itinerary, Guster. If I knew that, I'd have arrested him already," he said sarcastically, then relented, "Of _course _it's possible… Why?"

"Shawn installed ridiculously expensive spy cameras at the office a couple weeks ago. They record cars that park out front and anyone who comes inside. I thought they were completely pointless. But now... If Griffin was there, we'll have video of him." Gus was excited with this new possibility.

So was Carlton, but he wasn't about to let it show. "Go get whatever you have."

As promised, Madeline Spencer arrived just a few minutes after Gus left. She'd already been at Henry's house in anticipation of their dinner with Shawn and Juliet, so she hadn't far to come. Henry had been picking up some groceries when Gus called him, so she'd had no idea there was any trouble. In fact, she'd been wondering what was keeping him. Now she knew: Her son and his girlfriend had been kidnapped by the most evil man she'd ever met, and it was up to her to help the police figure out where he was keeping them.

Henry watched her approach. She appeared strong and businesslike, but he saw her hands tremble as she accepted the file from Lassiter. Henry stood behind her and put a hand on her back in a show of support as she paged through what little information they had.

Soon she cleared her throat. "Griffin is a man desperate for power. All his life he was put down and treated like dirt. Most of his actions now are motivated by revenge for any possible slight. You don't want to cut this guy off in traffic, because he'll be the one to hunt you down and kill you for it." She paused and took a breath. Everyone within earshot was hanging on her every word. "You're looking for a vehicle?"

Lassiter nodded. "It would help."

"He'll be driving something powerful. He _may _be in a sports car, but due to his small stature, I believe something large and heavy would be more his style. A truck, or an SUV - probably black or at least very dark in color. Anything that would exude power… and anger."

She flipped through the file again to calm herself and then continued. "As for location, he'll want something remote, obviously, as his activities tend to be… rather… loud." Her voice shook on the last word and she had to pause. She swallowed hard and shook her head.

It was not lost on anyone that the noise to which she was referring were screams that the monster might be tearing from her only child's throat.

She steeled herself and continued. "Here too, he will want control and power, but not flash. When he took the girls it was to a remote and abandoned cement factory. Heavy walls, strong doors - an environment that was completely under his control. He'll have Shawn and Detective O'Hara someplace like that."

She looked up at Lassiter with eyes bright with unshed tears. "Does that help?"

He nodded and instructed some of his team to begin looking into possible buildings that fit her description, while others continued to watch video feeds looking for likely vehicles.

Henry led Maddie to a nearby bench and got them both some coffee.

She sipped it gratefully and then stared into space. "This is all my fault." She whispered.

"Mads." Henry protested.

"No." She interrupted. "If it weren't for me, Shawn and Juliet would be safe at home. They'd be at your house having a lovely dinner… laughing-"

"If it weren't for you," Henry stopped her line of thought. "This guy would never have gone to prison. How many families would he have torn apart if you hadn't put him away?"

But she just shook her head. "Not mine." She said, knowing how horrible it made her sound.

"Maddie, we're going to find them."

When she looked at him Henry saw something in her eyes; something dark. He understood. For that matter, he agreed.

"They should have _executed _him for what he did." She murmured, her voice tight with fear and with anger. "Made _sure _he couldn't hurt anyone else."

Henry had nothing to say to that. He knew that their own thoughts of anger and revenge would not help them find Shawn, but that didn't mean he didn't agree. He nodded and sat back, his shoulder touching hers.

She gave in then to her instinct and leaned into his shoulder. He put an arm around her and two worried parents waited.

oO0Oo

"Shawn! I've almost got it! Just a couple more turns…"

"That's great... sweetheart... As soon as you... get out of here you have to… to warn my mom-"

"We, Shawn. As soon as _we _get out of here, you can warn her yourself."

"Jules, you don't get it... He'll be back any second, and if you're not gone…" Shawn didn't have the strength to argue. He let his throbbing head droop.

His face hurt. His thigh burned. His wrists and ankles stung angrily. His muscles ached from sitting so long, a situation compounded by the fact he was pretty sure Mallow had cracked a rib or two. He was so tired. He'd been awake for almost forty-eight hours now and the blood loss wasn't helping, but he tried to explain. "I know you've got mad ninja skills... but I also know what it's like to be drugged by this guy... There's no way you're up to your usual fighting form."

"Shawn–"

"Juliet, _please_." he begged, his voice cracking. "You _have _to be gone before he gets ba-."

"I've got it!" And the triumphant jingle announced that, while the cuffs on her wrists were still connected by the chain, the chain was no longer connected to the wall. "Let's get you out of here." She knelt next to him and began to examine the wires.

"_Go_. Juliet. _**Please**_."

Then there was no more time to argue because at that moment, they heard the locks on the door.

Juliet sprang to take a position next to the door where Mallow wouldn't see her immediately and waited for him to enter the room.

She threw the chain around his neck as soon as he stepped over the threshold. He managed to get a hand between the chain and his airway, though, and the two struggled.

Shawn was terrified. There was nothing he could do. He shouted encouragement that meant nothing and probably wasn't heard.

Mallow threw his head back and struck Juliet in the nose, forcing her back into the hallway and out of Shawn's sight.

"_**JULES!"**_

oO0Oo

"Lassie! Lass- Detective Lassiter!" Gus ran into the station.

Lassiter looked up from where he was sitting with Henry, watching endless useless footage of cars going through intersections.

"He was there. At Psych…" Gus waved a disc in his direction. "He pulled up in front and picked the lock. He looked around, but whatever he was searching for, he didn't find it. He left without taking anything." He handed over the disc. "Look!"

Lassiter growled at him but put the disc in and watched.

"See?" Gus pointed at the screen. "The truck - late model Black Ford F-150! _That's him!_"

The detective leaned closer. "Can you get a plate?"

Gus scowled. "No. Shawn tilted the camera so he could watch for the Japadog cart. It doesn't point where it should."

Lassiter growled, but was already in motion, calling for a BOLO on the truck. Several possible sites had been compiled by his officers and he had them cross reference those sites with any potential truck sightings.

Gus was still watching Griffin walk through Psych on one monitor while Henry watched traffic cam footage on another. "It's creepy… knowing he was in there…" But their search was energized. It felt good to have some traction.

Less than ten minutes later, Lassiter approached Maddie. "Mrs. Spencer, we could use your help."

She put her shredded tissues in her purse, stood and followed him.

"Patrols have spotted black trucks near three possible locations. Can you give us an idea of which one might be most likely?"

She glanced at Henry who nodded encouragingly, and then looked down at the photos Lassiter had spread on the table.

Soon she spoke. "You realize I have no way to know for certain. _**I **_am not psychic."

Lassiter grimaced at that since he didn't believe _anyone _was, but he nodded for her to continue.

She pointed to one of the photos. "This is your best bet. Since this storage facility is converted industrial space, it will have far sturdier walls and floors than the others." as she spoke, her voice became more confident. "It will be more secure as well. He's here. I'm as sure of it as I can be."

"You heard the woman. Let's go, people!" Lassiter shouted. "Move it!"

There was a flurry of activity, but Henry paused next to his ex.

"I'm staying here." She told him. "You keep me informed, okay?" Then she grabbed his arm. "Get that… that monster... And if Shawn's…" She couldn't say the word. "Don't you hesitate to…" She stopped.

Henry could see the muscles in her jaw working as she grit her teeth. He met her gaze evenly, knowing what she was asking. Then he nodded once, and followed Gus out the door.

oO0Oo

Shawn listened helplessly to the sounds of the struggle outside the door. He heard his beautiful Juliet cry out in pain more than once. He heard Mallow grunt as well, but it did not encourage him. Though the man was short, he was deceptively strong. He'd obviously taken advantage of thirty years with nowhere to go but the prison gym. And Juliet was still recovering from the effects of the sedative and was hampered in her movements by the heavy chain between her wrists. It was not a fair fight.

But there was nothing he could do about it.

Absolutely nothing.

Crashing furniture – bodies hitting walls and floors – In his head he prayed that Juliet was kicking this guy's butt, and he shouted words to that effect at the top of his lungs, but the truth was he had no way of knowing what was happening on the other side of that doorway.

And then the worst possible thing happened. It got quiet.

The fight was over.

Shawn stared at the doorway as if he could melt it with his brain. "C'mon, Jules, _c'mon_..." he murmured.

But it was Mallow who walked through it.

"_No…" _Shawn whispered.

"Oh yes, Shawn," Mallow replied breathlessly. He was bruised, his shirt was torn, and he was bleeding from several cuts and scratches, but the thing that troubled Shawn the most was the wide streak of blood across the front of his shirt. Blood that obviously wasn't his.

"What did you do?" He couldn't help asking, in spite of the fact that every fiber of his being was screaming that he _didn't want to know_. He was terrified that the words about to come from Mallow's mouth would destroy his life forever.

"Oh… Shawn… I'm sorry." Mallow slowly crossed the room towards him. He was calmly cleaning the bloody blade of his knife on his shirttail. He stood in front of Shawn, their knees almost touching. He put his hands on Shawn's forearms and leaned in, knowing the psychic couldn't move. "I killed her, Shawn. She's dead."

"No. She's not. She's…"

"She's dead, Shawn."

"She's not dead. Jules is _not _dead. Never. She's always okay. She's okay. She escaped. You're just–"

"SPENCER!" Mallow roared, leaning even closer, holding his knife against Shawn's throat to prevent any thought of another head-butt. "She's dead. I killed her. This is her blood!" He grabbed a handful of his stained shirt as if to show it to Shawn. "And now you will tell me about my profiler. I know you know. I know you remember. I know you will tell me. I know this because I will hurt you, and keep hurting you until you do."

Shawn wasn't listening. His eyes wide with desperation and pain, he fought the utterly unbearable idea that Jules was gone.

He couldn't stand it. His world was falling apart. It was as if his brain simply refused to process the thought. Instead it spun madly in every direction, searching for something solid.

Then Mallow's words registered, and he knew what to do.

He smiled humorlessly because he realized he still had one way to beat this guy. "You're wrong; dead wrong. I won't tell you where your profiler is. I won't _ev-er _tell you. You think I will. You think you can make me, but you're wrong. You see, I know something you don't. And it changes _everything_."

Mallow straightened slightly, frowning. "What's that?"

"Your profiler… is my _mother_," Shawn growled breathlessly. "Didn't see that coming, did you? _I don't care _what you do to me. There is no way that I will give you her name or where she lives or any single thing about her. I won't tell you what you want to know."

Mallow froze, staring at Shawn. He stayed that way for a long moment.

It was clear that he was absolutely furious, but he was also surprised. He _hadn't _seen that coming – not at all.

Then, as if making some sort of internal decision, he stood and brought his knife up to wave under Shawn's nose.

When he spoke, he was eerily calm, his voice conversational. "I suppose you're right about that, Shawn. I don't suppose you _will _give me your own mother. Especially after I killed your girlfriend... That's too bad." As he spoke, he touched the tip of his knife to Shawn's chin and began to draw a thin red line down his throat and onto his chest. Shawn gasped and tried in vain to jerk away. The knife followed, cutting through his shirt as he went.

Mallow chuckled quietly as he placed the point of the knife against a spot between his ribs. "It's okay, though." His voice was fearfully mild. "Because you're a fairly famous guy…"

He made a shallow slice.

Shawn whimpered.

"I don't need you any more. Although I _do so wish_ I had time to turn you into a work of art."

Another shallow slice. Another whimper.

"Oh well."

Shawn gasped each time the tip of the knife cut into him.

"You see, I don't think I'll have any trouble finding _Shawn Spencer's mother_."

Mallow looked very calmly into his victim's eyes and then he smiled. He put his weight behind the blade and slowly and purposefully drove it deep into Shawn's chest, right to the hilt.

Then he straightened, regarded his handiwork for a second, nodded to himself, and left in a hurry.

Shawn knew he should be screaming. He certainly felt like screaming. But for some reason, no sound beyond a pitiful whimper would be forced from his throat. He couldn't even breathe.

The pain was unbearable. Blood ran down his stomach and pooled in his lap. He knew he was going into shock and prayed he would pass out soon. But the worst part of it all was that he had done the very thing he'd fought so hard to avoid. The very thing Juliet had died trying to prevent.

He'd given Mallow his mom.

TBC…

A/N - before you yell at me, :-D it is possible to survive a stabbing like that - really! I already killed Shawn once- I won't do it again. As for Juliet - remember who we're dealing with. Are you really going to trust him?


	7. Chapter 7

_Previously…_

_Maddie pointed to one of the photos. "This is your best bet. Since this storage facility is converted industrial space, it will have far sturdier walls and floors than the others." as she spoke, her voice became more confident. "It will be more secure as well. He's here. I'm sure of it."_

"_You heard the woman. Let's go, people!" Lassiter shouted. "Move it!"_

_There was a flurry of activity, but Henry paused next to his ex. _

"_I'm staying here." She told him. "You keep me informed, okay?" Then she grabbed his arm. "Get that… that monster... And if Shawn's…" She couldn't say the word. "Don't you hesitate to…" She stopped. _

_Henry could see the muscles in her jaw working as she ground her teeth. He met her gaze evenly, knowing what she was asking. Then he nodded once, and followed Gus out the door._

oO0Oo

Carlton Lassiter was a skilled driver. He'd long ago made it a point to hone any and every skill that could make him a better cop. Driving safely and efficiently at a high rate of speed was near the top of that list.

He'd been respectful of that fact that Spencer was a son and a dear friend, and that the others cared about O'Hara as well, but did they really not get that she was _his partner_? He glanced at the man in the seat next to him who was braced against the door and staring intently out the windshield. Had the elder Spencer forgotten what that _meant_?

In a way he was grateful that their obvious emotion had distracted them from the fact that he was way too personally involved in this case. By all rights, Vick should have pulled him the moment that O'Hara disappeared.

He was grateful she hadn't.

He'd been respectful of the other's feelings. He shared them. Not that anyone noticed.

Now all he had to do was get there in time. _He had to save his partner_.

Lassiter hated this part. The investigating, the detecting, the interrogating, he was really good at those. And there was nothing so fulfilling as taking down the bad guy and slapping on some cuffs. The Miranda Rights had long ago become something of a lullaby for him.

But this part? The part where you had it all figured out and now you just had to wait and see if you were right? If you were in time? They'd laid everything on the line here. What if they were wrong, and Griffin had his victims somewhere else?

He hated this part when he _wasn't _personally involved, when the vic was just some nameless, faceless civilian.

This was _so _much worse.

What if they were too late? What if O'Hara and Spencer were already dead?

He hated this part.

Thankfully it rarely lasted very long, and he slammed on the brakes in front of the facility and threw the gear shift into park. The elder Spencer was already out the door. Lassiter swore and went after him, not even bothering to tell Gus to stay in the car.

The exterior of the building was well lit. He was glad of it because while it was now closer to dawn than sunset, there was no light in the sky yet. The long shadows cast by the security lighting made it difficult to distinguish one shape from another.

Shouting instructions to the uniforms to cover the exits and surround the building, he followed Henry to the entrance. He knew the man was frantic to find his son.

When he joined the older man who had paused on the steps near the door, Spencer just held out his hand expectantly. He said nothing, only gave Lassiter a look. The head detective grimaced, but knowing what was being asked of him, he pulled his back-up weapon and handed it over, butt first.

Taking the pistol, Henry started towards the door as he glanced back at Lassiter one last time to confirm that they were ready.

Before he reached the door, it crashed back against the railing and someone ran out- almost colliding with them. Both men nearly fired before they realized who it was: Juliet.

"O'Hara!" Lassiter roared. Only someone who knew him well would have heard the utter relief in his tone. Marlowe wasn't there and Juliet wasn't paying attention.

"Where's Shawn?" Henry shouted at the same time.

Juliet stopped, grabbed the railing, and stared at them, wide-eyed and gasping. Her condition registered and Henry was there with an arm around her waist. Gently supporting most of her weight, he helped her to sit on the steps as Lassiter called for the EMTs.

She looked terrible. She'd obviously been in a horrible fight. Her nose was bleeding, her eye was swollen and rapidly turning black and blue, her clothes were torn, and she was nursing a deep slice along her forearm that was bleeding heavily. Perhaps the most disturbing, though, was the chain that ran between her bruised and bleeding wrists.

Henry grabbed a clean handkerchief and pressed it to the deep wound on her arm, but she wasn't interested in receiving first aid. She was trying to tell them something.

"Juliet. Breathe." Henry soothed. "Where's Shawn?"

Juliet swallowed and nodded. "Basement, turn left, third door on the right. Mallow is armed and very dangerous. Go. Please. He's got Shawn. He's going to kill him."

Lassiter was still on his radio, now redistributing his men. While he spoke, one of the EMTs came and knelt in front of O'Hara. Placing his hand over Henry's, he continued to apply pressure as the older man stood.

McNab arrived and pulled his handcuff keys. He handed them over so Juliet could be released from her restraints.

As the EMTs began their work, Henry and Lassiter returned to the door. This time the two men actually entered the well-lit hallways of the storage facility. There were stairways leading both up and down directly in front of them and hallways extending out to the left and right on every floor.

Both men paused briefly to listen.

They were rewarded when they heard footfalls from the floor below. Mallow/Griffin came into view at the bottom of the stairs. As soon as their eyes met, he bolted down the hallway to the right, and both men took the stairs two and three at a time. At the bottom, Lassiter turned to pursue Griffin, already shouting into his radio for backup to cut off their fugitive at the exit.

He knew Spencer would be going after his son.

oO0Oo

Trusting Lassiter and his men to bring down the bad guy, Henry tucked his weapon into his waistband and jogged down the hallway to the left. He paused at the third door on the right. It was partially open, but he couldn't see inside. Swallowing in fearful anticipation of what he was about to see, he put his palm on the door and gave it a push.

It swung open to reveal an utterly heart-rending sight: his son, strapped to a chair in the center of a bare room, head down, a large knife protruding from his chest, and a smaller one from his leg. Blood soaking most of his clothing and pooling on the floor around him.

He could only see the top of Shawn's head.

He felt as if someone had reached into his own chest, grabbed his heart and twisted.

He tried to comfort himself with the thought that Shawn was unconscious and feeling no pain.

He was only unconscious, right?

Henry approached carefully as if afraid he would wake his son. In truth, he was terrified that he wouldn't be able to. "Shawn?" he asked softly. "Shawn..." He knelt next to the wounded man, ignoring the wetness at his knees. He was going to check a pulse at his wrist, but that was when he saw the razor wire. "What did he do to you, kid?" he asked regretfully.

He reached, instead, for Shawn's throat. "Come on, son," he whispered desperately. "_Please…_"

Before he could find the pulse, though, Shawn moved. His head jerked slightly and began to sway. "Ju… Jules… Mmm… No… Mom… Mommmm..." His voice, while barely audible, was saturated with loss and anguish.

"Shawn - son, can you hear me?" Henry gently cupped his son's face and helped him to lay it back against the chair. He grimaced when he saw the swollen and bruised mass that marred the entire left side.

"Mom… won'tell… S'rry… So Sorry..."

Henry realized Shawn still wasn't aware that he'd been rescued, but he understood what the kid was saying. From the moment Gus called, this whole situation hadn't made sense to him. If Griffin wanted Maddie, why take Shawn and Juliet? But if Shawn's words made any sense – and they nearly always did, if you knew how to listen – then Griffin had tortured the son for the whereabouts of the mother.

"Shawn – Shawn – it's okay. Your mother is safe. We know Griffin is looking for revenge. I've got her safe, kiddo. Shawn?"

Shawn's right eye opened a bit. "Daad?"

Henry smiled slightly at his son. "I've got you, kid. Your mom is safe, and Lassiter's got Griffin…" He left the 'he'd better' unsaid.

A slight frown, "Gr'ff'n..."

Henry almost smiled again – even with a knife buried in his chest, his son was still trying to make sense of the information available to him. But instead of answering, Henry went to the door and looked for the EMTs. Unlike Lassiter, he didn't carry a radio.

He heard voices from the vicinity of the entrance. "Hey!" he tried to get their attention. "Down here!"

A paramedic carrying a large case appeared at the end of the hall near the stairs.

"Got a badly wounded man down here! Move it!" Henry shouted and then returned to Shawn without waiting to see if they listened.

Seeing the hilt of a knife protruding from his son's chest was truly horrific, but he knew better than to remove it or touch it in any way. "Hang on, Shawn. Help is here. Just hold on."

"Mom… Jules isn't… can't be… _can't _be..." Shawn was lost in his delirium once again.

Henry inspected the razor wire carefully. On the underside of the armrest, he found a catch. It was difficult to see how it worked since it was coated with Shawn's blood. He managed, though, and released both wrists from their restraints. He was just starting on the ankles when the paramedics arrived.

"Took you long enough!" Henry groused, but he got out of their way once he had released the leg restraints.

Medical personnel always work deceptively quick in these situations. To worried loved ones, they seem to move far too slowly. But they are familiar with the phenomenon and are not bothered by impatient fathers. They soon had Shawn as stable as they could manage under the circumstances. In record time, they were on their way out to the ambulance, Shawn now deeply unconscious.

oO0Oo

Lassiter was running after his quarry as hard as he could. In spite of the fact that he knew there were at least two officers on the other side of the door Griffin was rapidly approaching, he ran.

The part that he hated was supposed to be over now.

It wasn't.

He still didn't know if he was about to arrest Griffin for kidnapping or murder.

At least he knew his partner lived, although just how badly injured he didn't know. But Spencer?

Thankfully he didn't have time to contemplate what the elder Spencer might be finding. At that moment, the door ahead of Griffin opened, revealing the three officers who waited outside.

Realizing he had no escape, their quarry turned in the direction where he had only one foe instead of three. He raised the knife he still carried, obviously intending to attack Lassiter and remove the only obstruction to his escape.

A single shot thundered through the bare, cement hallway.

Griffin cried out and grabbed at his thigh where one of the officers had shot him to protect their superior. But he still had his knife and was insane enough to try to use it.

Lassiter moved in immediately, blocking the thrust with his forearm before Griffin could strike. He forced the man back against the wall and pinned the hand holding the weapon above his head. He followed up by grabbing Griffin's throat - effectively immobilizing him.

The psycho's free hand let go of the wound on his thigh and pawed at Lassiter, spreading his blood over every part of the detective he could reach as he desperately tried to free himself. Snarling and snapping his teeth as he did so.

Lassiter shoved harder against the hand holding the knife and it finally let go. The knife clattered to the ground and was kicked away by one of the officers holding their weapons on Griffin who still struggled.

"Give it up, Griffin." Lassiter ground out. "You've got nowhere to go."

There was a minute pause, as Griffin's eyes focussed slightly and he realized the futility of his actions. Still snarling, he relaxed slightly, and Lassiter was able to flip him to face the wall, and cuff his hands behind him.

But then Griffin stopped snarling and began first to chuckle and then to outright laugh.

He laughed as Lassiter hauled him to his feet. He howled as Lassiter dragged him out of the building.

The sound was disturbing.

"What's so funny, psycho?" Lassiter growled in his ear as he forced the man out through the door.

"My revenge!" Griffin roared. "You think you've stopped me, but this is better than I could have hoped; even better than I planned."

Lassiter dragged him towards the cruiser.

"I planned to kill the profiler, but this will be so much better: Now she will suffer for _years _knowing I killed her _son_! She will suffer _more _this way!" And he dissolved into insane laughter.

With a heavy heart Lassiter pulled Griffin around the corner of the building. He had to nearly carry the man who was still cackling manically, and dragging his wounded leg.

They'd made it in time for one victim, but not for the other. If Spencer was dead, then Griffin was right: both elder Spencers would forever be tortured by the events of this night.

But then the detective's attention was caught by movement at the front entrance: Two EMTs were guiding a laden gurney towards the waiting ambulance, Henry following close enough to have a protective hand on his son. Lassiter smirked and nodded to himself in satisfaction. But he quickly swallowed the smile and scowled before anyone could catch him.

Feeling far more relief than he would ever admit to, Lassiter jerked Griffin to a halt. "You sure about that?" He growled yanking his prisoner's shoulder around so that he could see that his victim lived.

Lassiter leaned close to Griffin's ear and murmured with satisfaction. "You see, I know that guy - and he may be an idiot, but he is stubborn and he is strong. He's gonna be _just fine. _He's gonna live happily ever after _with _his mom while you rot in a cell. Let's go." And he jerked the now silent Griffin back into motion.

oO0Oo

Henry followed the gurney out of the building as the first rays of dawn were coloring the sky. He desperately wanted to stay with Shawn on the way to the hospital since he knew there was a chance his son wouldn't make it that far and if these were Shawn's last moments then there was no way his son would spend them alone.

He soon realized that he would not be able to stay with his son. But he also understood that Shawn would not be alone because Juliet was already inside the ambulance, her own wounds being treated.

He saw the moment she grasped the full extent of Shawn's injuries, though. It was nearly enough to send her into shock, and Henry knew the paramedics would have their hands full.

He turned at the sound of Lassiter shoving Griffin into the back of a cruiser none too gently. He nodded once as the head detective glanced his way. Their unspoken communication released Henry to go to the hospital but also obliged him to keep Lassiter updated on Juliet's condition.

He turned the other way and spotted Gus standing off to the side, looking lost. He walked over, but paused a few feet away as Gus physically recoiled when he saw Shawn's blood all over Henry's hands and knees. "Gus!" he raised his voice just a bit as a distraction. "Let's catch a ride with McNab before he leaves – whaddaya say?"

"Shawn… Shawn had… a knife…" He gestured at his own chest. Gus was afraid. He was afraid his best friend was dying. No. He _knew _his best friend was dying and it was now a race to see if the process could be halted before it was too late. Gus had never been very good at hiding his feelings. "He's… He's..."

Henry, on the other hand, was an expert. "He's gonna be fine. Let's go meet them at the hospital."

Then Gus managed to find his footing. Until that moment, he'd been completely numb below his knees, but now, having been given a purpose, he followed Henry to the cruiser where McNab waited.

The nondescript storage facility would be crawling with law enforcement for quite some time yet, probably well into the afternoon, but the principle players had all departed the scene.

TBC…

A/N - My mom taught me to always put my toys back the way I found them. This story will be no different.  
Let me know if you're still reading. If no one's reading, there's not much point in posting the last chapters...


	8. Chapter 8

A/N Thank you to everyone who let me know they were still on board with this. There were a few who were not happy with what I - I mean _Mallow _\- did to Shawn. There are 10 chapters total. I hope you all like how it ends.

_Previously…_

_Henry knew there was a chance his son wouldn't make it as far as the hospital and if these were Shawn's last moments then there was no way his son would spend them alone._

_He soon realized that he would not be able to stay with his son. But he also understood that Shawn would not be alone because Juliet was already inside the ambulance, her own wounds being treated._

_He turned the other way and spotted Gus standing off to the side, looking lost. He walked over, but paused a few feet away as Gus physically recoiled when he saw Shawn's blood all over Henry's hands and knees. "Gus!" he raised his voice just a bit as a distraction. "Let's catch a ride with McNab before he leaves – whaddaya say?"_

oO0Oo

Buzz McNab pulled up to the doors of the emergency room and watched two men leave his car. The elder moved slowly as if the act physically pained him. The younger leapt from the car but then stopped, frozen in fear.

Buzz pursed his lips in concern, wishing there was something he could say, something he could do to alleviate some of their distress. He knew they were both desperately worried (he was too) one just hid it better than the other. He watched as Henry placed a hand roughly on Gus's shoulder, forcing him into motion. Buzz sighed through his own concern and drove off as they entered the building.

He found a parking place and made his way into the hospital. Finally, the only thing he could do was assist Detective Lassiter in processing their latest arrest. Griffin's gunshot wound and other minor injuries would have to be treated at the hospital before he could be locked up. Permanently.

oO0Oo

On the hurried ride to the hospital, Juliet had been nearly oblivious to the treatment she'd received. She was focussed entirely on Shawn.

In her defense, the EMTs had spared her very little effort as her wounds were hardly life threatening. Shawn's on the other hand…

They had removed the smaller knife from his thigh and bandaged it. The larger weapon, though, was left in place and Juliet couldn't seem to take her eyes off of it. Removing it at this point would only cause more blood loss, and Shawn had already lost more than he could spare. All they could do, until they had him in surgery, was push blood and other life saving fluids into his battered body, and keep him as still as possible so the knife would do no further damage.

Seated to his side as she was, his left hand was visible where it lay limp on the cot beside him. His wrist was bandaged, spots of red seeping through, but she reached forward and grasped his fingers. They were cool to the touch which was unsettling, but the contact helped to ground her and to remind her that this battle was not yet lost.

And then his fingers were pulled from her grasp as they arrived at the hospital and Shawn was quickly wheeled inside.

A new nurse arrived to help her down and lead her into an exam room where her own wounds could be treated. She followed numbly, still staring at the doors where Shawn had disappeared. She comforted herself with the thought that all she would need was a few (more like twenty or thirty) stitches and then she would be back at his side.

Seated with her arm lying on a sterile treatment table, it hit Juliet rather suddenly that she was coming to understand her boyfriend quite a bit better through this whole ordeal. Not only had she learned of his incredible memory and seen it in action, but she was also coming to understand what it was like to not be able to sit still.

Anxiety was rapidly chasing away her numbness. Rarely had she felt so impatient. Patience was one of her gifts. Her training officer back in Miami had encouraged her - 'Patience is rare in policefolk' he had told her, 'it will serve you well.' But now she found her knee bobbing up and down just like Shawn's so often did. At least it was distracting her from her own aches and pains.

The young man stitching up her arm tried to hide his own impatience. "If you hold still this will go much faster."

"Can anyone give me _any _information on Shawn Spencer? We arrived in the same ambulance."

He glanced sympathetically at her, "If you sit still, I'll have you out of here in ten minutes, tops, and you can go find out."

Just then there was a flurry of activity in the hallway outside, and an announcement over the PA system. It made no sense to Juliet, but her nurse grimaced "Multiple car pile up on the expressway is going to keep us busy for a bit. It's a good thing you and I are almost finished, otherwise you'd be waiting for a while. We'll be done in a minute."

"Will this affect Shawn?"

"I suspect he's already in surgery so, no, it won't. Don't worry."

So she did what she'd seen Shawn do (with varying degrees of success) so many times. She grit her teeth, grabbed on to the edge of the chair with her good hand and _sat_.

oO0Oo

While Juliet's injuries were being cared for, her partner was making sure their prisoner didn't escape while being treated for his own injuries.

Before Lassiter could get him cuffed securely to the treatment table, Griffin decided to make a break for it. Under the Head Detective's watchful eye, he didn't get far, but he managed to shove an orderly to the ground and spill several trays of medical instruments.

"You are only making things worse for yourself, Griffin. There are a lot of people, myself included, who wouldn't mind a bit if you didn't live to see trial." Lassiter barked at him. He held the psycho at gunpoint as the medical staff got out the restraints and secured him hand and foot to the bed.

Turning to the Doctor, Lassiter asked, "Is there some way you can drug him as well? For your own safety?"

The Doctor nodded, slightly nervous, and responded, "We'll need to sedate him anyway to treat the gsw, but he won't be unconscious."

Lassiter nodded in satisfaction. "We'll have a man here at all times just in case." He was torn between his responsibility to watch over his prisoner, and his desire to check on his friends.

Thankfully, Buzz showed up at that point and Lassiter called him over, instructed him to stay with Griffin. He also reassured the young officer that he would call in backup. Lassiter wanted at least two officers on him at all times.

Seeing that everything was under control for the moment, Lassiter went to check on his partner.

oO0Oo

In the ER waiting room, Henry paced. He was now wearing the scrubs some sympathetic hospital worker had placed in his hands so he could divest himself of his blood soaked clothing. He'd spent as little time in the bathroom as possible, trying desperately not to _think _as he washed away his son's blood. Trying in vain not to watch as the crimson stain swirled around the drain. And no one needed to know that he'd lost his lunch. That was Gus's job.

The only bright spot had been the moment that he'd tossed his ruined shirt in the trash. He couldn't prevent a small smile as he thought how thrilled Shawn would be. It was one of the shirts his son hated most.

Gus, who had gotten his regurgitation out of the way early, now sat and stared. Periodically he got up and looked down the hall, then returned, sat and stared some more. As he sat he considered: he'd been waiting at the hospital to hear of Shawn's condition before, but never had he held so little hope. He felt himself detach, and see the waiting room from a distance. Was this the day that would change the rest of his life? You hear about these things happening to other people. Everything is fine until suddenly, in a single moment, nothing will ever be 'fine' again. Was this that day? Would they lose Shawn?

He was pulled from his thoughts as he heard Henry greeting his ex-wife as she arrived at the hospital.

oO0Oo

Madeline Spencer had been holding her own vigil at the police station. Waiting to hear news.

As she sat and worried, she couldn't help reliving the days of Griffin's trial. Like Shawn, her eidetic memory could be a curse as well as a blessing. She certainly felt cursed at the moment as the sound of Griffin's crazed screams reverberated in her memory. His promises of torture and slow death had been directed at her and her alone. How she wished she hadn't been required to be present at his sentencing! How she had feared and hated him!

The threats that had followed had tormented her for days, and then weeks and the weeks had turned into _years_. Eventually she became so frightened she couldn't sleep. She wouldn't go anywhere alone. Even _with _friends she had ceased venturing out after dark. Soon she lost most of those friends simply through her absence. People stopped inviting her to things since she never showed. A nice man she'd been dating got fed up and broke off their relationship.

Griffin had effectively ruined her life.

Being a psychologist, she was acutely aware that her behavior was neither normal nor healthy. After a year of telling herself 'Physician, heal thyself' she finally went into therapy. Only then, when she was finally able to see things with a clearer vision did she come to understand that her current position was simply untenable.

No matter what she did, or who she implored, no one seemed able to make Griffin stop sending the threats. He was in prison. He was not allowed to send mail or access the internet. He had no contact with visitors, but somehow the threats had continued. He seemed to be all-powerful, and she, his utterly helpless victim. She hated him.

Finally she had accepted that in order to live a normal life she would have to end her current one.

And so Claire Bernson had ceased to exist. She gave up, not just her job, but her entire career. She sold her house, said goodbye to the few friends who remained, turned her back on life in Nebraska and moved to California.

She would never forgive Griffin for stealing those years of her life; for forcing her to abandon her very identity. She felt the fear and the fury from those years building within her once more. She thought of her therapy and knew that she should be fighting those feelings. She even knew how.

She didn't fight them. She welcomed them. She encouraged them. Griffin deserved them.

If he had stolen her son's life as well - she would not be held responsible for her actions.

What if Shawn was gone? That would be horrible enough. But if it was _Griffin _who had killed him?

She was suddenly torn from her thoughts by the sound of her ringing phone. It was Henry. With his first words, she knew things were bad. She knew better than anyone that the world could be falling apart and Henry Spencer would stay calm. If he was unable to keep his agitation from his voice, things had to be horrific. She felt a stab through her heart as she thought, _'He's going to tell me Shawn is dead.'_

Thankfully he did not say the words she dreaded.

Shawn was alive. Barely. For now.

They were on the way to the hospital and could she drive his truck and meet them there?

She was already halfway to the door although she moved on unsteady legs. She thought of the parents of those two little girls. She remembered their voices wracked with grief. Griffin should have gotten the death penalty then, she thought. He certainly deserved it now.

'_Yes.'_ She decided. _ 'Griffin deserves to die._'

TBC...


	9. Chapter 9

_Previously…_

_Maddie was suddenly torn from her thoughts by the sound of her ringing phone. It was Henry. With his first words, she knew things were bad. She knew better than anyone that the world could be falling apart and Henry Spencer would stay calm. If he was unable to keep his agitation from his voice, things had to be horrific. She felt a stab through her heart as she thought, 'He's going to tell me Shawn is dead.'_

_Thankfully he did not say the words she dreaded. _

_Shawn was alive. Barely. For now._

_They were on the way to the hospital and could she drive his truck and meet them there? _

_She was already halfway to the door although she moved on unsteady legs. Griffin should have gotten the death penalty, she thought. He certainly deserved it now._

'_Yes.' She decided. 'Griffin deserves to die.'_

oO0Oo

Henry stood as Maddie arrived. He saw immediately that she was terribly upset. She had always been protective of Shawn. Many of their earliest fights had been about his habit of putting Shawn in 'dangerous situations' in the name of 'training.' In his heart he knew that Shawn had never been in danger, but Maddie would never believe him. When she had heard from Mrs. Nussbaum that he'd locked their son in the trunk of his car she had been livid.

He also knew that she held herself responsible for all of this. Griffin had only gone after Shawn in order to locate _her_. It had been hard enough for her when she'd believed someone else had put Shawn in danger. If she now believed it was her own fault...

He tried to console her. "Mads-" he began.

"Have you heard anything?" She interrupted. "How is he?"

Henry frowned when he heard the fury in her voice. He had been expecting fear or worry, even grief- not anger. But he did his best to answer her. "We haven't heard anything yet, but I'm sure they'll be out soon."

She nodded, looked around and sat near Gus, but she sat ramrod straight. Her jaw was working, her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

At that moment there was a commotion in the ER as the victims of the car accident were brought in. They couldn't really see anything, but the level of activity in the department increased tenfold.

Lassiter arrived about the same time, asking about Juliet, but no one had anything to tell him.

When Madeline saw Lassiter something in her changed. Her agitation disappeared and she became calm. She stood and approached him where he was speaking with Henry. "Detective Lassiter, where is Griffin?"

He turned to her and nodded. "He's here. He was shot while resisting arrest so he has to be treated before we can take him in. Don't worry. He's restrained, sedated, and under guard."

Her eyes took on a faraway stare and she simply nodded her acceptance of the information. She turned to the window and stared out at the early morning sunshine.

"Maddie?" Henry approached.

She turned, frowning and spoke without meeting his eyes. "I need to get some air. Please come get me if you hear anything."

Henry nodded and watched her leave. He wondered if he should go after her, but then Juliet arrived, her arm in a sling. She still looked pale and bruised, but she was alert and determined. "What have you heard about Shawn?"

"Nothing, yet." Lassiter answered her. "It should be soon, though." He put a solicitous hand on her elbow and led her to a chair next to Gus. The four of them continued to wait.

oO0Oo

When Maddie had heard that the monster was here at the hospital receiving care, something in her that had been tightly restrained broke loose. How could they? How could the doctors and nurses treat him knowing how he had treated others - how he had treated her son?

He should be left to bleed out. It was only right. It would be justice.

She hadn't gone outside to 'get some air.' She had a very specific destination in mind: Griffin.

It was time he paid for what he'd done. Obviously, being sentenced to life in prison wasn't nearly enough to stop this man. She knew from Henry's unspoken words that he did not expect Shawn to live. Therefore Griffin wouldn't either.

She wasn't a medical doctor, but she had spent enough time in the field that she knew what she needed and she knew where to get it. It only took her a minute to re-enter the hospital through another door and retrieve a syringe full of morphine. Having grabbed a spare lab coat, she looked every bit the part of doctor, and it helped that most of the staff were distracted by the multiple victims of the car accident.

No one paid her any attention as she walked purposefully through the halls.

When she neared Griffin's room she was surprised to see Buzz standing guard outside the door, but she recovered quickly.

"Mrs. Spencer- How can I help you?" Buzz asked politely.

She managed a smile and hid the syringe behind her back. "Actually, it's Detective Lassiter that needs your help. He asked if I would come and do an evaluation on the patient while he needs your help with… with the accident that just came in. Seems they're short handed and since Griffin is restrained _and _drugged…" She waved a hand dismissively.

Buzz only hesitated a moment. "He did say backup would be here shortly…"

Maddie smiled at him.

"Okay, ma'am, if you're sure…"

"Buzz, I've handled worse with fewer precautions." She fought to keep her smile in place and wondered why he wouldn't leave. "As you said, your backup will be here, and you know Detective Lassiter is not a patient man."

That did the trick and Buzz was gone. Maddie pushed open the door.

oO0Oo

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, four expectant people were rewarded and a nurse came out to get them. Because the ER waiting room was now filling with friends and relatives of the accident victims she led them to a semi-private, surgical waiting room where Shawn's doctor met with them.

"Mr. Spencer is going to be fine." Were his first words and relief flooded the room.

Juliet, especially, already weakened from her injuries and lack of sleep, collapsed into a chair.

Glancing at her with concern the doctor sat down, "I'm afraid I'll have to be brief as I am needed elsewhere…"

Thankfully, things were not quite as dire as they had appeared at the storage facility, although it was a matter of centimeters and timing: If the knife had been a little to the left, or slightly deeper, Shawn would have died almost instantly.  
The knife had missed his heart, but pierced a lung, and _that _would have been deadly if medical attention hadn't arrived as promptly as it had.  
He'd lost so much blood, if it hadn't been replaced quickly he might not have survived.

But he had - and he would.

Minor things like stitches, cracked ribs and a broken jaw paled in comparison to what they had feared.

Then the doctor was gone and for a moment they all just sat and basked in the relief. A heavy weight had been lifted from four pairs of shoulders. A phone call to the station, and it was lifted from several more.

Madeline Spencer, the original target, had been kept from harm. Shawn and Juliet had been rescued. And Griffin would be incarcerated for the rest of his life, no chance for parole, not after this.

In a moment it occurred to Henry that he really needed to tell Maddie. She wouldn't even know where they were if she came looking for them. He remembered the odd look on her face, the anger, the fear, and felt an urgency to let her know that Shawn was okay. He went to look for her.

She wasn't in the ER waiting room. She wasn't anywhere outside. Where had she gone? He went back in, but she was nowhere to be found. He paused to consider as Buzz walked up.

"Could you tell me where Detective Lassiter is? I've been looking all over…"

Henry frowned at him. "Aren't you supposed to be guarding Griffin?" He asked.

Buzz nodded helpfully. "I was until Mrs. Spencer came and told me Detective Lassiter needed me to help with the…"

Henry was already gone.

oO0Oo

Maddie pushed open the door and entered. Griffin lay on the bed. Padded leather restraints held him immobile so she walked right up to his bedside. "Do you know me?"

He had been dozing due to the heavy sedation, but at the sound of her voice he blinked at her. "Hmm? Wha?" He squinted.

"Do you know me?!" She asked more forcefully.

He blinked at her again and she saw the moment realization dawned. "It's you. The eidetic. _Claire.._. _Finally _we are face to face again."

She stared at him. Trembling in her fury, she was too angry to speak.

Relishing the power he had over her emotions, Griffin smiled in satisfaction. "Is your stupid kid dead yet?"

At his words she felt herself become icy calm. She brought the syringe into view. "Do you know what this is? Care to guess?"

Griffin's eyes widened slightly and he began to struggle.

With her free hand she took the call button and waved it in front of his face before draping it over the bed rail just out of his reach. She calmly moved about the room and switched off all the machines that would alert the nurses' station to a change in his condition. She assumed they were all too busy to notice anything that wasn't beeping at them.

"No. Stop." Griffin protested, his words slurring just a little. "You can't do this."

"No?" She asked curiously. "Why not? You've done this and worse to others. You tortured and killed two little girls with their whole lives ahead of them. You tortured-" Her hands began to shake again and she fought to still them, marvelling at the ice that seemed to flow in her veins. "You tortured my _son_." She whispered. "Why should you get any less?"

She flipped a switch on one last machine, moved back to his bedside and picked up his IV line. "Actually, this will be much nicer. You'll just fall asleep. You won't feel any of the pain you inflicted on others. I'm really being very merciful." She slid the line through her fingers until the port was in her hands.

Griffin watched her every move. "Nurse!" He tried to shout. "Help! Somebody help me!"

Maddie only smiled at his helplessness. She had made certain the door was closed tightly. She doubted anyone would hear his weak cries, and soon he would be silenced forever. "Did your victims cry out for help?" She asked calmly. "Did Shawn?"

She raised the port in one hand and the syringe in the other, making certain he would realize he was powerless. She made sure he would be able to watch as she killed him.

oO0Oo

It didn't take Henry long to find the room where Griffin awaited treatment for his gunshot wound. He threw the door open and came upon his ex-wife about to inject a syringe full of something into Griffin's IV port. "Maddie!" He exclaimed.

But she didn't pause. "Henry, don't stop me. You know this is right. This is justice. This is what should have happened a lifetime ago."

It chilled him the way her voice was so calm.

Griffin's voice, while slurred and weak from the sedative, was anything but calm. "Stop her! You muss… You must stop her…" he fought his restraints weakly.

Henry barely spared him a glance. "Shut up. She's not wrong."

Griffin's eyes went wide at that and he shut his mouth, but he continued to struggle.

Henry put a gentle hand on Maddie's forearm as the door swung shut behind him. He was more interested in saving her than he was in saving Griffin. He spoke softly. "You wanted me to tell you when we heard from the doctor…"

That got through to her and she pulled the syringe away from the port a little and looked at him, fear of what he might say plain in her eyes.

He leaned marginally closer, ready to grab the needle if he had to. "He's okay." He said firmly. "Shawn's going to be just fine, Maddie. You don't need to do this."

"He's… he's alive?" She asked hesitantly, turning slightly toward him.

Henry smiled gently, exhaling slightly as he realized the full extent of what she'd been going through. "He's okay." He nodded. "We can go see him." He rested a palm on the small of her back.

When she didn't speak, but just looked at him, he saw that it was just sinking in to her what she had nearly done. She'd almost committed cold-blooded murder. "Henry…" She began to tremble.

At that, he did reach forward and take the syringe from her. She let him. He slipped it discreetly into a nearby sharps container.

He didn't address her actions. There would be time enough for that later. Instead he said what she needed to hear: "Let's go see our son." The hand on her back slid around, lending both comfort and direction as he gently guided her out into the hallway.

Thankfully, Buzz's backup chose that moment to arrive, followed by Buzz himself. He looked a little sheepish, even though he didn't really understand what had transpired. Henry just nodded at him as he and Maddie left.

TBC...


	10. Chapter 10

A/N Ah, dear friends - we've come to the saddest point. The Posting of the Last Chapter. Always a sad time for me as I will miss all your love and support, the feeling that we're doing this together. You guys have been great.

And to all of you who start reading this story tomorrow or any time in the future. Thanks for stopping by. I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please leave a review if you feel inclined.

THANK-YOU!

Papaya

oO0Oo

_Previously…_

"_He's okay." Henry said firmly. "Shawn's going to be just fine, Maddie. You don't need to do this."_

"_He's… he's alive?" She asked hesitantly, turning slightly toward him._

_He didn't address her actions. There would be time enough for that later. Instead he said what she needed to hear: "Let's go see our son." The hand on her back slid around, lending both comfort and direction as he gently guided her out into the hallway._

_Thankfully, Buzz's backup chose that moment to arrive, followed by Buzz himself. He looked a little sheepish, even though he didn't really understand what had transpired. Henry just nodded at him as they left._

oO0Oo

Madeline Spencer, the original target, had been kept from harm. Shawn and Juliet had been rescued, and would recover. Griffin would be incarcerated for the rest of his life, no chance for parole, not after this. Everything was going to be okay.

Now if only someone would tell Shawn...

When Shawn woke from the anesthesia, it was with none of the fogginess and confusion that usually accompanied such experiences. It was a jolt, waking up this way: suddenly coming fully alert, everything that had happened rushing at him all at once.

All things considered, a little vague disorientation would have been a kindness.

He woke to an empty hospital room which was, in itself, disturbing. Where was Gus? Where was everyone? Where was anyone? It wasn't the middle of the night, the sunlight filtering in through a window proved that. But he was alone.

He was also in an incredible amount of pain. It was hard to breathe. His chest felt ripped apart and raw and empty and _none _of these feelings had _anything _to do with the fact that he had been stabbed.

Juliet was gone. She was dead.

He'd 'lost' her once before and it had very nearly destroyed him, but that had been different: He'd had hope. He'd had hope that the loss wasn't permanent.

He knew then that he had hurt her, but he had also known that it was at least _possible _to get her back. There was at least a chance then that she would forgive him, and they could be together again.

Now there was no chance.

She was gone. She was gone.

That thought kept repeating over and over no matter how hard he tried to make himself stop.

How could she be gone? How was it possible that his sun – the center of his universe had suddenly been ripped away?

How could life continue? All the movies said that if the sun was gone the earth would turn cold and everything would slowly suffocate and freeze and die.

That was exactly how he felt.

And that wasn't his only source of pain.

Mom.

He'd practically told Mallow where to find Maddie. He might as well have driven his captor straight to her door, and handed him knives while he worked. He thought _maybe _he remembered his dad telling him that she was safe but he couldn't be sure. The thought felt woozy – more like a dream than the clarity of his memory. Probably it was wishful thinking.

He closed his eyes tightly, pressed his head back into the pillow, and tried not to cry.

Juliet was gone.

Mallow had taken his revenge on Maddie.

It was all his fault.

He considered ripping out all of his stitches just so that he could feel something else – anything other than regret and sorrow and loss. If only he could cause himself enough pain that the physical version would blot out everything else.

He never admitted it – not even to himself, but deep down he knew that there were four corners to his life; four people who kept him sane and centered and whole: Gus, Dad, _Mom_, and _**Juliet**_.

Shawn's world was listing heavily. It was going to capsize and sink to the bottom and he had no will left to try to stop it.

Without Juliet, he had no reason to live.

He didn't hear it but as his heart monitor sped up, down the hall at the nurses station an alarm began to beep softly.

oO0Oo

At the same time that Shawn was waking up, Henry and Maddie were headed for the recovery ward. Henry didn't know where the others were, but at the moment his priority was proving to his ex-wife that their son was going to be okay. He could still feel her trembling as he held her elbow.

Suddenly she froze. "What did I do, Henry?" she asked in horror.

He regarded her calmly. "Nothing, Maddie. You didn't actually do anything other than put the fear of God into a very bad heart." He smiled softly at her. "Any good parent would have done the same. I was tempted myself."

"Henry…" She protested. "I would have killed him if you hadn't stopped me." She looked at him with wide eyes.

Henry studied her for a moment before responding. "I don't think you would have. Not when it came down to it. You're not a killer."

When she started to protest, he cut her off. "I've seen killers, Maddie. So have you. And I've arrested more than one person who killed when they believed it justified." He took her hand. "They _always _believe they're justified." He looked into her eyes sincerely. "You're not them."

He urged her back into motion with the words, "No one needs to know anything about this. _Nothing _happened. Now let's go see if Shawn's awake yet."

At that moment, they were interrupted by the nursing staff hurrying past them down the hall into Shawn's room.

Henry threw one last glance at Maddie and followed.

oO0Oo

They entered as two of the staff were already leaving. The remaining nurse finished straightening his blanket and explained, "Shawn woke up and was feeling some distress. We've given him more pain medication and that should help him rest."

Both parents were sorely convicted by the fact that their son had woken up and they hadn't been there for him.

Thinking only of Shawn, Maddie hurried to his side and took his hand, trying to reach him before the medication pulled him under once more. "Goose? Shawn, honey? Can you hear me?"

Glazed, tear-filled eyes that were barely open turned to her and tried to focus. "Mom?" he whispered.

She smiled gently and leaned closer, brushing back his hair gently. "I'm here, Goose. I'm fine. You did it. You protected me. I'm safe." She squeezed his hand, hoping desperately that her words sank in before he succumbed to the pull of Morpheus.

She was not to have the comfort of knowing if he heard her or not. Her son's eyes had closed without any further reaction to her presence.

Henry placed a hand gently on her back as he stood near her. "He heard you," he comforted, not knowing whether he spoke the truth or not.

He gazed at his son, taking in every bruised feature, and comforted himself with the thought that in a week or two he would be back to driving his father crazy. Then he looked at his ex-wife as she continued to hold Shawn's hand with her left and stroke his hair with her right. Nothing would get her back to normal faster than just being with Shawn.

He nodded to himself and went to report to the others. He knew It would do wonders for Shawn if Juliet was also present the next time he woke.

oO0Oo

The next day found Shawn in a private room. He had minimal monitoring since he was well on his way to recovery. In fact, his doctor expected him to be released from the hospital in only a few days, although it would be weeks before he was able to resume his usual level of activity - longer if he didn't behave himself.

He had woken twice, once when he was being moved from recovery, and once when his doctor had done a post-op exam. Neither time had any family or friends been allowed in the room and Shawn had not spoken. He seemed to want to go back to sleep as quickly as possible and no one saw a reason to object.

At the moment Shawn was asleep and dreaming. He knew he was dreaming, and he liked it. He often had lucid dreams and had gotten pretty good at directing them. It was especially rewarding when he had a vague awareness that things were _not _pleasant in the real world. Then his dreams really felt like an escape - almost a forbidden vacation, like he was getting away with something.

He had nearly perfected the skill at the height of his parents' fighting. He'd been so tortured by their behavior and the belief that they were fighting because of him, that he often dreamt about them during the night. Being able to change those nightmares into dreams about more pleasant times had been his salvation.

He was doing it now. He knew that something was terribly wrong, something that involved Juliet.

Somehow he had lost her.

His dream had begun as a fearful scramble through a forest searching for her. He could hear her screaming in pain, crying out to him to come and find her, to save her, but he couldn't. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't find her, couldn't save her.

His mother's voice had intruded too. Calling to him with the same desperation, but from the opposite direction. Now he had to choose who he would try to save.

It was unbearable. So he took ahold of his dream and wrenched it in a new direction. He focussed on Juliet. He concentrated on his most fond memories of their time together and slowly a new image began to form: Their romantic getaway. Sure, it had all gone horribly wrong, but it was still among his favorite memories. He concentrated on just one: He and Juliet, sitting at a small table on the patio. She, looking exquisite in candlelight and moonlight, as they lightly, and with humor, discussed their possible futures. He remembered the beautiful sound of her laughter as he'd suggested names for their quadruplets.

It was all happening again in wonderful dream perfection.

He started to panic when he felt himself beginning to wake up. He couldn't face what was waiting for him. He just couldn't. It was too horrible to even contemplate. But he was starting to be aware of his surroundings: He was lying down, not sitting with Jules at a linen covered table. There was pain…

Desperate, he pulled this new knowledge into the dream. Okay- he was lying down… but he was lying on a chaise lounge beside the pool. Juliet sitting next to him, in her bikini, holding his hand. The pain didn't exist.

He began to relax as he heard her voice. "Shawn? Are you awake? How do you feel?"

He wanted to tell her he felt glorious here in the sunshine next to the pool, gazing at her beauty, but his mouth wouldn't move. He held tight to her hand, trying to cling to the dream, but her hand, instead of lulling him back into the dream, pulled him towards awareness.

He concentrated on the feel of her hand in his. A feeling he would never again experience in real life.

In spite of his best efforts, he began to wake.

But the touch of her hand, instead of fading, became more tangible.

Without opening his eyes, he finally got his lips to move. "Jules?" he whispered, terrified that this awareness of her presence would suddenly vanish. "Jules?"

Her hand squeezed his. "I'm here, Shawn. You're going to be okay."

"Goose, honey? Can you hear us?"

As his mom's voice registered, his eyes opened in utter disbelief. Yes, he was lying in a hospital bed in a considerable amount of pain. And it really was hard to get his lips to move. But his mom was sitting to his left, gently running her fingers through his hair, and his beautiful Juliet was sitting to his right, holding his hand and smiling at him.

He blinked.

He felt tears welling up in his eyes and willed them away.

"Real?" he whispered.

Juliet smiled.

His mom's fingers left his hair and ever so gently caressed the side of his bruised face.

"I certainly hope you aren't in the habit of imagining me with two black eyes." Juliet chided while smiling lovingly, her own eyes filling with tears that she quickly brushed away with her free hand.

"Beaut'ful" he whispered, wondering again why it was so hard to speak even though he was now fully awake.

"Don't try to talk, Goose." Came his mother's gentle voice. "I'm afraid your jaw is wired shut for a while."

"But don't worry. You can still have smoothies." Juliet added.

Shawn looked up at his mom. "M's'rry"

Then _her _eyes filled with tears (Why was he making everyone cry?) as she leaned forward to kiss his forehead. "I'm so glad you're safe, Goose. Everyone's safe. And Griffin is back behind bars for good this time." She kissed him again before settling back into her seat.

He turned and gazed at Juliet. "Tho't you're dead." He whispered. "Thought I l'st you b'th"

Her eyes turned sad and she caressed his hand. But before she could speak, Gus arrived with a tray of large styrofoam cups with straws poking out the tops. "Is he awake yet?"

Sniffing, Juliet turned to him. "Just now." She smiled. "Did you bring the smoothies?"

"Hey, Shawn!" Gus grinned. "Everybody is having a field day with you having your jaw wired shut. I've never seen Lassiter so happy."

Shawn rolled his eyes, but tightened his hold on Juliet's hand.

Gus began handing out smoothies, announcing flavors as he went. "Mango." went to Maddie, "Acai" went to Juliet, "Whey To Go Bananas for me and… drum roll, please… Pineapple for Shawn!" He handed that cup to Juliet as well. "You wanna help him find a spot for the straw? Cause I'm not doing it." His voice was light and filled with humor, but when his gaze met Shawn's an understanding passed between them. They were all celebrating the end of a horrible ordeal, and the fact that everyone would eventually return to normal.

Juliet leaned forward to help as Henry arrived. "Hey Gus, you got my Tropical Twister with the energy blend?"

Gus handed over the final cup. "Right here, Mr. Spencer."

Henry grinned at Shawn and watched Juliet patiently guide the straw between his son's lips. "How's he taking the news that he can't really talk or chew for a couple weeks?" But like with Gus, Shawn could see the concern around his eyes.

Maddie smiled. "I think it's just now sinking in." she chuckled as Shawn's eyes widened.

"B't… B't…" He stuttered.

"Shh." Juliet coaxed gently. "You'll be fine. Just eat your smoothie."

Feeling the straw carefully with his tongue, Shawn took a sip. It was delicious, and the cold was soothing.

He looked around from Gus to his dad, to the mother he thought he'd betrayed and the beautiful girlfriend he'd thought had died because of him. They were all whole and healthy. They were all worried about _him_.

They were all going to be fine.

He took another deep pull from the straw and sighed in satisfaction. Who needed dreams when your reality was this good?

oO0Oo

END  
oO0Oo


End file.
